ACT 4: BIOHAZARD The Prelude to Horror
by noctorro
Summary: Prequel to World of the Undead, this is the story of life in Raccoon City from the eyes of one of it's regular, average highschoolers, up until the beginning of the virus spill. Featuring appearances by fellow authors' OCs. Ch.10 replaced. COMPLETE
1. Introduction: Welcome to Raccoon

I once lived in the American midwest in a small, quaint little mountain community called Raccoon City. Most city folk would've considered the place to be the real boonies but I think for a 'community', it was a pretty big, well established city. We had a few skyscrapers located in the upper part of town by the zoo where all the major businesses were located. Uptown was where all the nice homes were - mostly done in the San Francisco Victorian style but more recent housing estates have made the switch over to modern, art-deco inspired buildings, trying to give the old place a newer, fresher feel.

That's the direction Raccoon City was headed in. A big part of the city's income depended on tourists - hikers, to be more specific. Being a mountain community, we were surrounded on all sides by evergreen forest. There were some decent hiking trails at the foot of the mountains for the average citizens but hardcore hikers tended to scale a mountain or two. These people were the main customer base for the Raccoon City tourist industry and the recent campaign to promote the city as a getaway, especially for hikers and just people in general has proved to be quite successful.

I moved here about two years ago from Osaka, Japan. That port city has been my home for as long as I can remember, though my family had immigrated there from Beijing, China shortly after I was born. I took it upon myself to make the move to Raccoon because I'd been raised with the typical Japanese ideology of the West as being this exalted place, and I wanted to see the cities and culture of a society that, technologically speaking, had a major influence in Osaka's physical makeup. And of all the places I choose to move to in the U.S., it wasn't the bustling city of New York, it wasn't Los Angeles with enough pollution to change air into some kind of alien atmosphere, nor was it the moderate climate of Seattle in the North West. No, it was the quiet, laid back mentality of Raccoon City that ended up drawing me in.

I'm in the tenth grade at Raccoon City Secondary School - or RCSS for short. I chose Law as a university major and I did well in the introductory course in first semester, so I decided to take level two during second semester. At this accelerated rate, I was ready for work experience earlier than the rest of my class. Work experience required one hundred hours of volunteer work in our specific fields, so I applied where everyone else did - The Raccoon Police Department. I ended up being their bitch, basically. I'd handled any task that the secretaries and officers dreaded like filing reports, delivering mail, janitorial duties, and even fetching lunch for the S.T.A.R.S. members and their captain, Albert Wesker.

I'd only been working with the police department for about a few months when it happened. It was an incident that started out innocently enough, but grew with intensity with every passing week. At first it only affected the hikers. Then it spread to the people living on the outskirts of town, downtown Raccoon, and slowly made its way uptown, where I lived. One by one, people all around me succumbed to a new, mysterious sickness that not even the doctors at the hospital could identify. They were only able to classify it as a virus. But it was worse … so much worse.

Let me tell you what happened …


	2. Chapter 1: A Day at Work

**Author's Notes: **_Isaac Brown is the property of ColdandShock3/Desertcross4 . Opinions about this character stated in this chapter are those of Kenny's only, and do not reflect this author's view on him. Thanks ColdandShock3 for letting me use Isaac in this story. He will contribute well. Also notice the scene that Kenny describes with Isaac is taken straight from you story. _

Summers in Raccoon City are no joke. The ring of mountains surrounding the city prevents any outside breeze from blowing in, trapping the heat in town. The nights are usually cooler, but that doesn't mean it gets anywhere near cool. Today, I was dressed casually in a yellow T-shirt and black shorts for work. I decided to wear my Converse Chuck Taylor's today, but I regretted it within a few blocks of having left my apartment. Those canvas shoes don't protect the bottoms of your feet worth shit! But they look nice, I have to admit. Fortunately for me, the police department doesn't care what I wear to work. They know I'm just showing up to be their slave and as far as they're concerned, I could show up in a potato sac and they wouldn't even notice.

I'm too young to drive, but the precinct was located a few blocks south of my apartment building. I didn't even need to take the bus to get to work. Not that I would if I had to – they've been steadily increasing transit fares for a whole year now and it's at 200 what it was last summer! Anyway, precinct is seriously one of a kind. Before it actually turned into a police station, the place was an art museum. I wasn't around the city during those days, hell I don't even think I'd been born. But in the process of converting the building into what it is today, chief of police, Brian Irons, a round faced, mustached fat man of an art lover, decided to keep some of the pieces, particularly those depicting morbid scenes of death and bloodshed. The paintings still hang around the precinct today, but they are few and far between.

I walked through the tall iron gates that let me into the cobblestone courtyard of the precinct. The building hadn't lost its grandeur even after all these years. The entrance consisted of two rows of Romanesque pillars holding up a small roof, sheltering a large set of blue double doors which led into the building. In front of the pillars sat two encased light bulbs, lighting up the area at night. Just above the door way, carved right into the stone walls of the building was the acronym "RPD" and "Raccoon Police" right below that.

The courtyard extended left to a poor excuse of a garden which consisted of some grass and poorly planted trees and shrubs, ending at the side gate which is technically an emergency exit, but people use it to go in and out all the time. To the right, the courtyard sported some potted plants and an iron perimeter fence just behind those. One thing I found really cool about this place was the fact that the courtyard stretched left and right and on each side was a flight of stairs leading down, reconnecting the path just underneath the main entrance. I didn't really see much of a point for that useless feature, but it was still appealing, on an aesthetic level.

I walked through the main doors, greeted by bustling adults ruffling papers in their hands, going in and out through the numerous doors that made up the main lobby. The entrance platform was raised, and I walked down a short flight of steps onto the glistening marble floor where in front me, the Raccoon Police emblem had been painstakingly carved into the floor, at the foot of a statue of a woman sporting a water jug. Behind that was a giant oak desk, where the secretaries sat – ah, my workstation. So much room on that desk for paper pushing and filing and we only had one computer on the bloody thing.

"Good morning, Kenny," a blonde, female officer called after me from behind the desk, tucking a folder underneath her arm. Oh, I don't believe I've introduced myself yet. My name is Kenneth Feng but people just call me Kenny. It makes me feel loved.

"Hey, Rita," I said, waving to her. "You got anymore thumbprints for me to deliver to the filing room?" I headed around the desk to enter the small section of floor it encased and planted my butt in a swirling chair.

Rita shook her head and smiled. "You're lucky today. There will be none of that. But I do have a task for you that I think you'll enjoy." Rita was great. She was the one of the most talkative officers I've ever had the pleasure of meeting since starting work here, but it took me awhile to get used to her southern twang. I always thought she was speaking another language then she'd talk to me as if I understood what she was saying. Turns out it was some fucked up form of English and it really stops becoming an obstacle after you get used to it. Besides, it was an obstacle well worth overcoming because, like I said, Rita was great.

"Oh yeah, what is it?" I asked.

"You heard about those cases of the missing families in the Arklay mountains, right?" she said, lowering her voice a few notches. "Well it turns out they're sending Bravo in to check out the situation tonight."

My eyes opened wide. "They're sending the S.T.A.R.S. into action?" I'd always heard about the S.T.A.R.S. members and how experienced they were in the battlefield, how they could shoot a cap off a bottle from ten meters away, how they could kill you with their bare hands if you were armed with a gun … crazy stuff like that. I'd even gotten the opportunity to meet the S.T.A.R.S members before so you can imagine my disappointment when I discovered they looked like average Joes with personalities, not the warriors I was expecting to meet.

Rita nodded with a smile on her face. "Yeah. So I've got a few things for you to prepare for them. First of all, there's a rookie on Bravo team and this will be her first mission. She's supposedly a chemistry whiz from Raccoon University, not too much older than you. Her equipment should be arriving sometime this morning and I need you to get those delivered to Captain Wesker at the S.T.A.R.S. office upstairs the moment it arrives."

"How big is the package?"

"Oh, it shouldn't be too big," Rita said, waving it off. "It's just some first aid sprays, bandages and whatnot. Secondly, there are some firearms that need to be picked up from Kendo's Gun Shop for the mission tonight. They were sent there for customization last week and we just got word they're ready to be used, just in time for the mission. You remember the way there, right?"

"Out the side exit, right down the street, another right through an alley, around a fire escape, through a basketball court …"

"I mean the LEGAL way," she reminded sternly, "one that doesn't involve trespassing on private property.

"Yeah, I remember," I said, a little disappointed. "But do I get to go alone?"

"Of course not. You'll be accompanied by Officer Ryman."

**XXXXX**

I was convinced I was going to die. Oh, you may laugh at me now but if you ever get the opportunity to ride with Officer Kevin Ryman in a car, you'd understand why I felt that way. I was strapped in the passenger side of the police cruiser, my seatbelt so tight against my body I could barely breathe. But that's the way I wanted it. Careening down the quiet Raccoon City streets at eighty kilometers and hour … sorry, that's the system we use in Japan – we count in kilometers, not miles – I was surprised we didn't hit anyone, although we came close a few times. I held the passenger door with a white knuckled grip, pressing my back as hard as I could into my seat. My teeth were grinding against each other, a sheen of sweat covered my face, neck and back, and my eyes were squeezed shut as I prayed that death would come swiftly and mercifully.

"Ha!" Officer Ryman cried, brushing strands of his long brown hair away from his face. "Look at you, Kenny!" He patted me on the shoulder roughly. "Twelve years old and still scared like a baby!"

"Fifteen, actually," I corrected, though he if he noticed, he didn't act like he did.

"Let me tell ya, when you get your license, you won't be able to keep your foot off the accelerator! These police cruisers are built to take this kind of abuse, especially with the bullet-armored plating, extra coated rubber wheels …"

"Yeah, can't wait … But Officer Ryman, won't you get in trouble if you get CAUGHT!" The car swerved violently, inches before it had the chance to hit an elderly woman at a pedestrian crossing. Looking in the rearview mirror, I could see the sweet woman waving her finger at us in the most ill-mannered gesture. "I mean, a police officer speeding through suburban streets is kinda … ironic, I'd say."

"Well, you only live once so you might as well enjoy it," Officer Ryman said. "Besides, who's gonna tell the chief? You?"

"No!" I insisted. There were quite a few rats in RCSS – that's my school – and those were the kids that always got beaten up on. I have never been a rat at school, and there was no way I was going to start on my first job … volunteer job … whatever. "I was just wondering why you don't seem worried about one of your co-workers seeing you, that's all."

"Nah, it's fine!" he replied, waving my concerns off. "The boys and I watch out for each other. I mean, we do the wrong shit all the time. All the alcohol we confiscate from kids like you on the weekends, the cigarettes we take from minors, what do you think we do with them?"

"Gee," I said, scratching my head, "I always thought you just threw them away."

"We do that most of the time. But if nobody's looking, once in awhile … you can keep a secret right?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "and you don't have to finish off your sentence. I can pretty much guess what you do with all that. And don't worry, I won't tell a soul."

"That's my boy," he cheered, rubbing my hair roughly with a gloved hand.

**XXXXX**

Kendo's Gun Shop was a quiet store at the end of a narrow road. The road itself actually had two lanes and parking on either side was considered illegal. But most citizens parked there anyway, if they were only going to be stopping off for a few minutes. And that's exactly what Officer Ryman did, right in front of a no parking sign, no less.

I unfastened the seatbelt and got out of the car in a hurry, happy to be alive and on solid ground without some maniac behind the wheel of a battle suited police cruiser. Officer Ryman got out of the driver's seat and took out a handheld radio from its resting place where most cars have their drink holders, placing it in a leather case clipped onto his belt. We stood on the sidewalk, in front of Kendo's Gun Store. Officer Ryman headed straight for the entrance door on the right side of the building face, while I gawked at the display window, sporting all sorts of firearms. I'm not a gun whiz, but I swear they had guns of every caliber – handguns, bow guns, rifles, shotguns – and this one gun that looked like it was supposed to be held with two hands but I swear it was longer than I was tall.

"Hey, Kenny, you coming in or what!" Officer Ryman called from the entrance, holding the door open with an arm. "I can't carry all the firearms by myself, you know."

"Sorry!" I apologized, running towards the entrance to catch up with him. I was never a gun nut, but there was something about those contraptions that drew me to them. I found it amazing that a hunk of metal, screws and gun powder, when held in anyone's hands, would suddenly draw command and respect to the wielder, regardless of who they were if they were without it.

I stepped into the store and was greeted by a jolly, stocky man with a mop of brown hair caked onto his forehead with a layer of sweat. He tugged at the straps of his denim overalls with stubby hands while a huge grin spread across his round face. I swear, put a beard on him and he'd be Santa.

"Oh, well it's the Raccoon Police comin' to claim their firearms!" the man, who I assumed to be the owner of the store, said.

"It says here we've got a pick up for 10:00 am," Officer Ryman said, looking at a notepad-size sheet of blue paper he pulled from the breast pocket of his black uniform. "We're a few minutes early, but I assume they'd be ready by now, right?"

"Finished with 'em at around midnight last night," the owner replied proudly. "Ain't nothing Robert Kendo can't do with a gun!" He jabbed a stumpy thumb into his bloated chest. He then turned his attention to me. "Hey there, kiddo, you might not wanna be looking at all these dangerous weapons! You'd have to be with a guardian to come into this store."

"Relax," Officer Ryman said casually, "he's with me."

"Oh, a delinquent, eh?" Mr. Kendo said softly, elbowing Officer Ryman lightly on the ribs as he passed a wink.

"Work experience volunteer," I replied, making it obvious to Kendo I'd heard him. He pressed his lips shut and turned around, heading back behind the glass counter which proudly displayed handgun sized firearms. He bent down and we then heard some rustling and metal clanking against itself. He reappeared from under the counter with a set of heavy looking leather cased boxes, placing them gently on the counter.

Officer Ryman took the topmost box on the pile, flipped up the metal locks with ease and opened up the case, inspecting the handgun quickly and thoroughly while Kendo stood back and smiled at his handiwork. Officer Ryman took the gun out of the case and held it in his hand, as if weighing it, and suddenly took aim at nothing in particular.

"It feels the same," he commented, "only this time, I can't hear any loose parts." He looked at Kendo and nodded in approval. "We've gotta come here more often."

"You might want to check the other firearms to make sure they're in proper working order," Kendo suggested, motioning to the other cases. "I don't want to end up getting my ass sued if some malfunction I'm responsible for ends up killing someone accidentally."

**XXXXX**

Officer Ryman and I arrived back at the RPD in one piece. I stepped out of the car shakily, after having to endure his driving a second time around and promised myself never to step into another vehicle with him again. He popped the trunk open and we headed around to grab the firearm cases for delivery upstairs to the S.T.A.R.S. office. I wasn't looking forward to having to carry the cases up ridiculous flights of stairs. The least they could've done was install an elevator into this ancient building.

The trek to the upstairs office was no cakewalk. From the parking garage, we had to open a few doors and pass a boiler room, weapon storage – and I would've much rather dump the guns there for the S.T.A.R.S. to pick up themselves – up some stairs, past the locker room, past the office, up the emergency stairwell … oh, it was terrible and it didn't end there. The damn office was in the opposite wing of the building. Halfway up the emergency stairwell and my arms were crying bloody murder. I also forgot to mention that Officer Ryman was kind enough to hold the doors open for me but carried nothing himself.

When we got the expansive library after having crossed the second level balcony in the main hall overlooking my work desk, Officer Ryman stopped in his tracks with a look of alarm on his face. Glancing at his wristwatch, his face contorted into an expression of anger and disappointment. He grunted.

"Is there something wrong, Officer Ryman?" I asked.

"I'm going on patrol in five minutes," he said. "I almost completely forgot." He spun on his heels and prepared to head out the double doors we'd just entered through. "Do you remember the way to the S.T.A.R.S. office?"

"Yeah, don't worry about me. Don't be late for your patrol. I won't tell the chief."

"That's my boy," he said, shooting me a thumbs-up as he disappeared through the doors.

The S.T.A.R.S. office was just beyond the next room, which served as a pretty pathetic lounge with sofas and vending machines. Not having anyone to hold the doors open for me, I found myself having to use my feet to prop the doors open for me to squeeze through, all the while with my arms now threatening to rip themselves from their sockets. I huffed and puffed, telling myself it was almost over. I could feel the heat in my face and wondered how red and exhausted I must've looked – probably as red as that potted plant sitting on the ground just next to a bench. Which reminds me – the RPD was weird for having all these potted plants lying around in random places. It's kind of ironic if you think about, that a police station run by a chief who loved art depicting violence, torture and death, to keep these vibrant, multicolored plants around to brighten up the place. I heard once that they had healing qualities, but I'm sure they're for decoration more than anything.

My destination lay just around the corner. However just as I made the turn, someone else was coming around from the other side and we nearly crashed into each other. As I jerked my body to avoid a collision, the movement threw the pile of gun cases in my arms off balance. I watched in slow motion, a look of horror etched on my face as the top few cases fell off the pile and headed on a collision course with the ground. They would fire me for sure, after spending so much money getting those guns upgraded, only to have me break them. But fortunately before they could contact the floor, I saw a large form move with surprising speed, scooping the cases from midair.

It was a man who saved the guns – and my job, a man who I recognized as one of the S.T.A.R.S. members. He was tall with short brown hair cut close to his head. A white T-shirt with the S.T.A.R.S. logo embroidered on the sleeves covered a powerfully built upper body. He carried a green vest in one hand and a combat knife in the other – only now both items were on the floor, replaced by the gun cases in his hands. He looked at me and whistled.

"That was a close one, tike," he said. "Better walk slower next time, or get someone to help you, huh?"

"Sorry, Officer Redfield," I said sheepishly. He was one of the S.T.A.R.S. best and impressing Officer Chris Redfield would more than likely boost my chances of working at the Raccoon Precinct in the future – and getting paid for it, I mean.

"That's okay," he said, plopping the cases back onto the main pile I held in my hands. He patted me on the head. "Try to be more careful. It's bad enough we get officers getting hurt on the street. We don't need you injuring yourself while you're supposed to be safe in the precinct – especially when you're not even getting paid." He sent me on my way without another word and I walked with my head low. There goes my chances of working at the precinct … I was a liability to the force, huh?

**XXXXX**

"Whaddaya want, lackey?"

I frowned, my throat closing in on itself as I realized who was speaking. Standing in front of the S.T.A.R.S. office stood an older boy, recently having graduated from high school. He looked around my age, but I knew for a fact he was older cause the guy was actually getting paid. What was his name again … Isaac Brown – that was it. His role in the precinct was somewhat similar to mine – only he worked for the S.T.A.R.S. members and only them. From the first day I met him, there was something I didn't like, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

"I've got some equipment to drop off for Bravo," I replied, wanting to keep it short so my time spent with the guy was limited, "for their mission tonight."

"You're not going in," he said, folding his arms across his chest as he shook his head to deny me entry. "They're having a meeting in there."

"Then may I leave them with you?" I asked politely. "I've got some medicinal equipment waiting downstairs to be brought up here as well, and I can only carry so many at once. 'Sides, these are getting heavy."

Isaac shook his head condescendingly at me. "You uptown kids …"

He never stood up straight – I suppose that's a good start. His posture was always slightly hunched, his expression always kinda distant, like he never really cared about what he was saying or who he was talking to. His red hair sat in a tangled mop on his head while his clothes were strangely casual, especially for a paid professional. The officers aren't really the gossipy type, and even if they were, I doubt they'd bother leaking anything to me seeing as how at the end of the day, I answered to Chief Irons. The point is, I never heard anyone say anything about Isaac. I just didn't like the attitude he presented whenever I did come across him as we made our daily routines through the halls. And I didn't know if anyone else shared my opinion, so I just kept it to myself.

I suppose that isn't a good enough reason to dislike the guy – but how about the fact that he puts effort into making my life miserable? I'll give you a good example – on one of his first shifts, I was in the S.T.A.R.S. office delivering the doughnuts someone had placed an order for from the doughnut shop just a few blocks down the street from the station. I had a few cases to file that day at the main hall desk and was in a rush to drop the doughnuts off and return to my work station – considering the size of the precinct, it would be a long walk. Officer Redfield wanted to grab a chocolate glazed doughnut from me, but I hadn't realized he was running after me as I hurried out of the office.

Good-natured Isaac decided it would be appropriate to stick his foot out for me to trip over. Chris's doughnut went sailing from my hands, up in the air, and into Isaac's awaiting hand. And then – yes, he ATE Officer Redfield's doughnut in front of the both of us. Now, if that doesn't scream disrespect, I don't know what does. He'd blatantly disregarded any form of authority Officer Redfield had over him, any seniority I had (yes, I was a volunteer but I was more experienced than he was) and the worst part was the way he did it with the same air of indifference as he did the rest of his job. I would've decked the fucker right where he stood, I swear. He may have been older but he was my size, almost exactly. But the only problem was I actually cared about being professional, so I just dropped the issue and cleaned up in the washroom before returning to my duties.

"Yeah, it's unfortunate we're too rich to have the honor of dressing and smelling like you," I replied in the same passive tone he used. I was sick of his bullshit, and aching at the opportunity to get back at him. I figured this would've been a perfect time, as there were no authority figures present.

"You wanna make something of this?" he asked angrily, stepping up to me. Finally, that irritating, energy sucking force had vanished from his posture as his red face and clenched fists reflected an air of violence.

I took a step closer, putting us nose to nose with each other. "Touch me and I'll have the Chief and Captain Wesker fire your arrogant ass. And THEN I'll come and kick your grungy downtown ass."

"Boys!"

Isaac and I were caught completely off guard, turning around to face an angry looking young woman with brown chestnut locks reaching down to her shoulders. She was dressed in the usual S.T.A.R.S. attire which consisted of a dark blue beret, shoulder pads a shirt with the S.T.A.R.S. insignia sewed on, midnight blue combat pants and black boots.

"O…Officer Valentine," I stammered. Of all the S.T.A.R.S. members, she was the most motherly … well, I suppose being the only woman on the team helped that. I hadn't exchanged a lot of words with her, but ever since our first meeting, she'd always smile and greet me whenever we passed each other – and then tell me what a good job I was doing even though she hardly saw me work. And the part that impressed me most was that Officer Valentine actually remembered my name and referred to me by it, as opposed to Officer Redfield who stuck to condescendingly cute little nicknames like 'tike', 'kid', 'buddy', and 'champ.'

"Isaac," Officer Valentine said sternly, "I've got some more missing people cases from the main desk downstairs that need to be put away. And I need you to do them now instead of bullying your younger peers."

I smirked at him as she ordered him around sternly. "And Kenny!" Just like that, the smirk was gone from my face. "I have never seen you use such language before. I don't want to catch you talking like that again!"

"Yes, ma'am," I mumbled sheepishly. And Jill had never yelled at me the way she had like that before. So whatever I was doing, it was definitely not impressing the police force that would be reporting on my work ethic back to the school. It really wasn't fair, though. The once time I decide to give my bully a serious talking to, the nicest officer in the city walks by. And I've been known to piss off even the nicest people with my mouth. I sighed in resignation – what's done was done. And it was time for a cigarette break.


	3. Chapter 2: Bravo's Bravado

**Authors Notes: **Lisa Hartley, Justin Thomas, Amber Bernstein, Jack Carpenter and Mrs. Bietelbaum are property of HHoD (Hyperactive Hamster of Doom) from her story "Resident Evil: Project Lucifer". Thank you for letting me use your characters in my story. Kenny's description of Mrs. Bietelbaum is based on what is written in Project Lucifer.

**XXXXX**

Oh, the cigarette felt so good - the warm air caressing my throat, into my lungs, the thick plume of smoke that escaped into the warm, summer air ... It was disgustingly hot out today. My T-shirt stuck to my back as I leaned against a wall and would probably require some work to peel off later. My palms and the back of my knees were clammy with sweat. My face and neck were so drenched, they were just clammy, but soaked. I felt sorry for those poor businessmen on their lunch break, walking out in this kind of late summer heat in their suits and ties, those briefcases ... ugh. Can't wait till I turn into one of them.

I wasn't sitting anywhere near the police station on my smoke break. I'm three years younger than the legal tobacco age and I know it's against the law for merchants to sell tobacco to me - so they'll no there's a shady merchant out there and go out of their way to bust him, and then I'll have to find another source ... it'd just turn into a real ugly situation.

So I was in my usual smoking spot - across the street and around a corner into a little alleyway with a metal gate barring the entrance. When I first discovered this place, I thought the gate was locked, just by the kind of metal it was made of, and the way it just sat in place so firmly. But after trying it, I was surprised to discover it was unlocked. So I sat there, hidden behind a large dumpster and puffed away, completely content in my spot. Yeah, you heard right, MY spot.

And then Officer Redfield showed up from around the corner. I couldn't believe it was him at first, but after staring for an extra half second, there was no mistaking it was him. I jumped with shock and panicked for a second, throwing my smoke to the ground and stomped on it as subtly as I could though it must've come off as being pretty frantic. I bet if I hadn't freaked out like that, he wouldn't have noticed me and continued on his merry way. Of course, my day of stupidity was far from over as he turned to face me and smiled.

"Oh, hey Kenny," he said, waving a hand at me. That was rather casual. Did he even see me with the cigarette in my mouth? If he hadn't, Officer Redfield wasn't probably all that sharp, but that couldn't have been it if he was in the S.T.A..R.S. unit, could it? Maybe he didn't even care. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the precinct?"

"I'm on my lunch break," I replied. "The sandwich I brought wasn't too appetizing so I just came outside for some fresh air." Awww, shit. Fresh air, huh? That was a good slip of the mouth. Officer Redfield eyed the cigarette remains by my feet and nodded.

"In an alley, huh?" he asked, looking around at the garbage that littered the ground. While my eyes darted back and forth, searching for a decent explanation, Officer Redfield pulled out a cigarette of his own and lit it. My eyes were immediately drawn to the cancer stick, like a hawk watching a rabbit. I unconsciously licked my lips, never having the chance to fully enjoy my own when Officer Redfield showed up unexpectedly. "You sure came to the wrong place, Kenny. This is where everyone comes to enjoy a smoke or two."

"Officer Redfield, I didn't know you ..."

"I don't make it that obvious," he said. "It's called hand soap, light body spray, and some gum. Oh, would you like one?" He held out his open pack within my reach.

"W... what? How did you know I ..."

"Hand soap, light body spray, and gum," Officer Redfield repeated. "After your lunch breaks, you smell like you need some."

"Oh ..." I looked to the ground embarrassed. That means the entire precinct knew. And nobody had done anything to stop me. Wow, they really didn't care that I was breaking the law! It's sad, I know I'm a real straight laced kinda guy. But there was a part of me that felt proud that for once, I was doing something bad.

"Besides," he continued, "you didn't think I noticed you eyeing my smoke like a bird?"

I reached out and pulled a cigarette from Officer Redfield's pack, thanking him. "No use trying to hide it now," I said, shrugging.

We sat down and enjoyed our smoke break together – this being the first time I actually had a chance to chat with Officer Redfield. I swear, my lunch breaks have never gone by so quickly. We discussed his family life, about his younger sister, Claire and how she was in college. It kinda surprised me, actually. Officer Redfield spoke about his sister lovingly, as any older brother should. The only thing was I wasn't expecting someone of his demeanor – with the rough beard, the muscular build, the army style haircut, to have any capacity for compassion. But I guess I was being a little judgmental. He then asked me about school, what I was up to, what direction I wanted to take my future in, what my parents thought about it … and that's when the conversation got awkward.

"You've got to be joking me," he said, furrowing his brows at me. But I merely shrugged and told him the truth.

"I don't have any parents," I stated simply. There was no way I could've elaborated more.

"But … I don't understand," he continued, "how do you survive – financially, I mean?"

"Mr. Masters takes care of me," I elaborated. "He's kind of a mentor of mine, I guess you can say. He opened up a bank account for me some years back, and continually puts in a few thousand dollars a month for me to survive."

Officer Redfield shook his head. "I don't understand what kind of a guardian figure that is."

"I wouldn't exactly call him a guardian figure. He's more of a … mystery overseer of my life."

"Have you ever had the chance to ask him why he does this for you, if he's not your parent?"

I shook my head. "I haven't even gotten the chance to meet him. I don't know who Mr. Masters is, what he looks like, what his motivations are, nothing. All I know about him is what he does for me, and that's enough."

"And if he stops giving you money?"

"Then I'm screwed."

**"**I must say," Chris said, shaking his head, "I don't know what I'd do if I were in your position. I wouldn't feel comfortable taking money from some guy you don't know, much less what his motives are."

"So far, he hasn't given me any reason to doubt him."

"I wish someone would continually put in money in my bank account."

"Please, you're a S.T.A.R.S. member. I'm sure you make wicked money."

"Yeah, too bad I have a house and a car to take care of. Anyway, we better be getting back to the precinct now. Our break's probably been over for ten minutes already. It was good having this chat with you, Kenny."

"Same here, Officer Redfield."

He held up a hand motioning for me to stop. "Please, just call me Chris," he insisted.

**XXXXX**

History – my most hated class. I hauled my backpack through the hallways of Raccoon City Secondary School, having just thrown my law textbooks into my orange steel locker in exchange for "The New World: America's Story" version 3.5. That was the textbook Mrs. Bietelbaum used for History 10 and I was already late for it. The school was bigger than the five minute time frame they allowed for people to travel in between classes. I'd already spent the morning at the precinct and fortunately today, I only had an afternoon class to attend. Then it was back to work. At that rate, I would be finished my hundred hours of work experience in no time! And then Bietelbaum would be out of my hair for good!

But for the time being, I had to endure her. And if there was one thing that cow of a history teacher hated, it was late students. She had this habit of giving you this ugly frown, or a look of death, depending on whether you were a boy or a girl. I would get the look of death. And coming from her ugly face, it matched the ugly outfit she wore like, everyday. We'll start with the white cardigan she wore. It looked like someone skinned a sheep alive and teased the fur to the point where it became this massive lump of frizz that covered even her walrus neck, and a few of her lower chins. Then there was the skirt. They varied in colours, but always had the same floral design on it – immaculately embroidered tulips, roses, cherry blossoms and magnolias all growing out of the same wiry branch that made its way around the fabric – a completely impossible occurrence in the natural world.

On my way up the stairs, dreading my imminent glare of death I was about to receive from Mrs. Bietelbaum, I heard a sweet, angelic voice call my name.

"Hey, Kenny, wait up!" she called. I turned towards the friendly voice and came face to face with none other than one of the most popular girls in school, Lisa Hartley. She was a dirty-blonde beauty with a hairstyle hugging her round face. He held a binder in one hand, the other holding onto a single strap of her backpack hanging over the opposite shoulder.

I brushed a hand through my hair, wanting to look somewhat presentable to her, but had completely forgotten the half hour gel job it took to style this morning before leaving for school and only succeeded in screwing it up. Out of all the uptown kids, Lisa was the most sympathetic, and I liked that about her. This girl was nice to _everybody, _even those who didn't particularly deserve her niceness. I wasn't exactly friends with her, but we were friends by default having hung out numerous times with the same group of people.

"Ugh, the Walrus Lady is going to eat us for lunch," she moaned, rolling her eyes.

"I don't get why she insists on us being on time," I added. "Who pays attention in that class anyway?"

She gave me a funny look. "Gee, Kenny, with you and your early graduation coming up, I'm surprised you wouldn't be paying attention in any class. I heard the local precinct already gave you a volunteer position."

"Yeah," I replied, "and I usually do pay attention. But somehow in history, Bietelbaum's cankles keep taking my attention away from whatever she's grunting about."

"Cankles?" Lisa asked curiously.

"Yup," I nodded, "like when someone's legs are so fat, their calves merge with their feet and there are no curves that define the ankles?"

Lisa let out a hearty laugh, most unladylike of her. "Oh my fucking God, that's friggin' hilarious! I totally notice the same thing about her! Leave it up to you to come up with a name for it."

"Yeah … well …" I said modestly, shrugging. "Hey, nice perfume. Eau de toilette?"

Now it was her turn to shrug. "I don't know. It belongs to my mother. I like yours, though."

"Cologne," I frowned, "and it was expensive, mind you. Polo Sport."

"Not bad," she said, giving and approving frown. "Where do you get that kind of money?"

"Oh, just a rich uncle of mine." The truth was, nobody in school knew how I survived. I deliberately kept from mentioning Mr. Masters to my fellow schoolmates in fear that I'd be robbed someday. Sure, the student population of RCSS was mostly uptown kids, but there were a few downtown kids that attended as well. And if you're from downtown Raccoon, chances are you kill people and their families, and steal from them for a living.

"It must be nice to have people looking out for you like that, huh?" she asked, her eyes somewhat distant.

I always knew it was a soft spot for her. Lisa was a sweet girl, she really was. I would've never expected that her home life was a mess – or her lack of a home life, I should say. She's never actually said it to me outright, but we all knew what bad parents Jonathan and Elizabeth Hartley were the worst parents anyone had ever heard of. They were scientists for the Umbrella Corporation, a company that practically owned Raccoon City. Being such, they were pretty much at work everyday for much longer than the usual eight hours. Lisa had to practically grow up by herself, fixing dinner, doing homework, stuff like that. It's a miracle she didn't turn into one of those downtown druggy kids or even associate with them … wait.

"The only person I've got to look out for me right now is Jack," she explained. "He helped me get through some real tough times, when Charlotte went missing." Right, there was Jack Carpenter.

"Listen, Lisa …" I said hesitantly, "about Jack …" He was from downtown. I remember on his first day at school, me and a friend, Justin Thomas, saw him walking to school. We knew straight away he was a downtown kid with his scraggly blonde hair, ripped jeans, this plaid button up shirt with missing buttons, dressed in an outfit even the lowest downtown bum would discard. We threw rotten fruit at the poor kid as we drove by – food that Justin's parents had given him for lunch that he never ate, just kept them sitting in his backpack. That stuff made the perfect throwing material. The funny thing was, we had no idea he was on his way to school – OUR school. And then he showed up in Bietelbaum's history class that morning while Justin and I snickered up at the front. Lisa warmed up to the bum immediately and I had no idea why. Strangely enough, that was the same day Lisa's best friend, Charlotte Lascelles disappeared.

"Look," she interrupted me, "I know you and the others don't like him, but he's really helped me out through some tough times. I'm not asking you to like him, or to even give him a chance. I just want you to leave him alone, and to keep your opinions to yourself, okay?"

"But Lisa," I insisted, "you know what those downtown kids are like. What kind of a friend would I be if I didn't worry about you hanging around with the likes of him?"

"I appreciate your concern, but I trust Jack, and I trust the Street Rats."

"The … who?"

"Never mind," she said, shaking her head. "Come on, we better hurry or we'll be late for class."

**XXXXX**

The cool part about working for the police department was that the officers sometimes let you come along with them for patrols, and you get to experience the excitement of the job first hand. But the coolest thing about today was the fact that I was getting the opportunity to see Bravo off to their mission. This was probably the closest I was ever going to see the S.T.A.R.S. in action and I didn't want to miss a second of it. Back at school, during lunch break, I deliberately avoided Lisa and the others, found a nice quiet spot by myself and got all my homework done. And when I got to work, I worked quickly and efficiently with filing and the phone calls, just so I could snag the ten minutes to see Bravo off. And wow, was it ever worth it!

The evening was considerably cool tonight. The sun's setting rays illuminated the sky all shades off pink and purple, particularly the bottoms of the clouds. It was getting a little late at night as things around the station had slowed down. Rita insisted that I go home to get some rest, but I wasn't going to miss this for something as pathetic as 'rest' for crying out loud. We stood on the built-in helipad the station had, which sported a water tower and a fenced off controls section for the tower, to my left. Behind me and over to the right a little stood the doorway that led out here. In front of me was the expanse of surface that served as the pad for the helicopter that now stood like a giant looming creature, completely under the control of the humans much smaller than it.

The back hatch of the computer was open and some officers were loading supplies into the vehicle. I walked slowly around the vehicle, making sure not to get into anyone's way and snuck a look inside here and there when I could. The control panels for the helicopter consisted of numerous gauges and buttons, and a few funny shaped mechanical controls and switches up on the ceiling, just within reach of the pilot. Looking at the complicated contraptions stressed me out just looking at them.

A sudden movement from within the helicopter caught my attention. It was something large, black and fast, and then a flash of light – like sparks or something. I took a step back in surprise, clenching my fists. I didn't think it would be getting into a fight with whatever it was, but the reaction was more instinctive than anything. It was strange though. With the speed and efficiency it moved – just a quick blur of shadow – it made no sound. What the hell could it have been?

"Who's there?" I called out, a dry lump forming in my throat. I endured another short moment of silence before a voice called back.

"Oh, Kenny," a man said, stepping into view dressed in a dark S.T.A.R.S. uniform, shades obscuring his eyes. "I didn't notice you standing there. I was just checking the helicopter, making sure everything is in order before Bravo takes off for their mission tonight."

"Sorry to have surprised you, Captain Wesker," I apologized, "but I thought that was the mechanics' job."

"You can never be to safe," he said with a forced grin as he stepped down from the vehicle and onto the helipad's paved surface. He headed towards the door – the one that led back inside the building. I poked my head into the vehicle to check it out – something didn't feel right. Why was he acting so strangely? Captain Wesker never seemed at unease, and for me to cause that kind of rare reaction out of him was unthinkable. Why was he inside the helicopter by himself? He was the Captain of the S.T.A.R.S., not a vehicle specialist. "Hey, Kenny," he called back, interrupting me from my thoughts.

"Yes, sir?"

"You didn't see anything, did you?" he asked as casually as he could muster. But something was up. I trusted Captain Wesker, despite his cold exterior. But he must've been good at his job to land a position as Captain.

"Uh … no," I replied, unsure of what he had expected me to have seen. Yeah, a sudden movement and a spark of light, nothing much else.

"Good," he said, nodding. "The Bravo Team should be up here any second now. I want you to double check that they've got everything and give them the mission briefing notes. I'll do the rest of the talking."

**XXXXX**

I spent the next few minutes organizing the equipment by myself up on the roof. I was tired, having spent the entire day at school and at work, and this was considered overtime but I didn't mind doing it. Maybe the S.T.A.R.S. members will notice my dedication and ask Captain Wesker to give me a job with them. I would've loved to be a member of the team but I wasn't sure how fit I was for the job. I wasn't sure which direction I wanted to take my life in exactly, just somewhere in the field of law. And working in the precinct was great fun. Imagine if I was getting paid for it!

I'd been alone up there, organizing, counting, setting up the equipment in piles, and making sure we had enough copies of the briefing notes. I didn't read the notes, as I knew this kind of information was probably classified. But even if I had read them, and assuming I wanted to tell the whole world about the mission, it would've been too late by the time I got the chance. The team would've returned from their mission, most likely accomplished. Ten minutes of work and the door opened to reveal the members of the Bravo Team.

Forest Speyer was looked like a country bumpkin, sporting a sleeveless denim shirt, long mullet, and a tattoo running down his left arm. He flicked a toothpick in his mouth with his tongue as he strutted down the pavement, whistling at the helicopter he saw before him.

Behind him walked a tall, dark, bald man going by the name of Kenneth Sullivan. The only thing I had in common with the guy was our first name. Age wise, he was around his mid forties and I was fifteen. He stood about 6'2" while I was 5'5". He had dark skin, coming from African descent and I am ethnically Chinese. I've got the most offensive mouth when I try, and he usually lets his presence speak for him. You get the idea.

Next up was Edward Dewey, the pilot. He was around Officer Redfield's age, but much more powerfully built. I'm willing to bet the guy ate steroids for breakfast. And to think they made him a mere pilot – he could've caused much more damage on the battlefield.

Enrico Marini was the Captain of the Bravo Team. He was a lot like Officer Sullivan – a tall, silent man with a bushy mustache who spoke more through action than words. He lumbered along in his trademark forest green vest and black combat pants. I've heard people mention that there was some kind of a rivalry between him and Captain Wesker, but I never decided to confirm the rumor, guessing it was probably none of my business.

Finally, there was Richard Aiken. Out of the Bravo Team, he was the one who spoke to me the most whenever I entered the S.T.A.R.S. office if it happened to be one of the destinations in my errands around the station. He was the youngest member of the Bravo Team and that probably explained it, too young to have had years of violent battles rendering him silent and cold like his older team members. He was a pretty cool guy – mainly because he didn't belittle me with frustratingly childish nicknames like Officer Redfield, or parent me to death like Officer Valentine.

Only three of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team members were there, including Officer Redfield, who I shared a cigarette break with earlier this afternoon, and Officer Valentine who we decided to keep that little tidbit of information from or she would've freaked at him for giving me a cigarette, and at me for smoking it. The third was the vehicle specialist Joseph Frost, with his trademark bandana wrapped around his head. He was with his girlfriend, a comedic officer who went by the name of Amber Bernstein. Officer Frost stood by Officers Redfield and Valentine with an arm around Bernstein. He was technically part of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team as a vehicle specialist, but his services also extended over to Bravo Team, being the only member on the entire unit with his specialty. A bitter taste formed in my mouth when I noticed Isaac Brown, the S.T.A.R.S. secretary standing just behind them, struggling to get a look at the helicopter.

Then Officer Frost went over to the helicopter, staring at it up and down curiously. Now I sensed something was very wrong. If Captain Wesker had already checked the aircraft, why was he doing it now? I know you can never be too safe, but Officer Frost looked at the thing up and down, like this was the first time the aircraft was being inspected for malfunctions. Maybe he didn't trust Captain Wesker's skills. Hell, I suppose I wouldn't either. That's not what the S.T.A.R.S. captain was trained it, so it really wouldn't have mattered if he'd checked it over already.

I continued staring, absorbed in my thoughts, when I suddenly noticed Captain Wesker approach Officer Frost to tell him it was alright, and that he already had some men come down and inspect the aircraft, and that it was ready to be used. I was standing a few feet away, but they spoke clearly enough for me to have heard properly. It had been awhile since I picked up that something was fishy in the air with Captain Wesker, but now something at the back of my mind was nagging at me to get in there and stop Bravo from boarding the helicopter. I then remembered the spark that I'd only caught a glimpse of. What had Captain Wesker done? Why was he so adamant about not letting Officer Frost anywhere near the aircraft?

Officer Bernstein slapped her hand on my shoulder suddenly, giving me the shock of my life. "Why so gloomy, Kenny?" she asked. "Isn't this what you've always wanted? To see the S.T.A.R.S. gear up for action?" Officer Amber Bernstein was always such a happy nut, and I loved her for it. She was a patrol officer, but would always stop at the front desk with the craziest stories from her rounds around the city – everywhere from drunk high school kids who for some reason, loved to get intoxicated during daylight hours, to crazy downtown bums who'd advise her to repent for her sins, for the end of the world was very near. We always had a hoot laughing about their ridiculous prophecies. Yeah, Raccoon City and the rest of the world were going to blow up in like, the next three months. What would a drunken downtown street bum know, anyway?

"I don't think they should be going on this mission," I told her.

"Excuse me?" Officer Bernstein asked. "It's not like you could do anything about this, kiddo, but … why do you think so?"

"I've got a funny feeling," I replied, looking over at Captain Wesker who started at the aircraft, absorbed in his own thoughts. The corners of his mouth lifted, as if trying to form a smile but he struggled to suppress it. And come to think of it, I think that was the first time I've ever seen his face contort into anything short of a smile. I was getting extremely uncomfortable now. My conscience screamed at me to stop this, maybe go in there and smash the control panels, anything that wouldn't allow this mechanical bird off the helipad. But my body wouldn't listen. I stood there like a robot, handing out the mission papers as Captain Wesker ordered.

"Alright, men," Captain Marini barked as I traveled up and down the row of Bravo members, handing out the briefing notes. "This is going to be a research mission. We're trying to get information on the mysterious cannibal murders that I'm sure you've all heard about in the news lately." The other men nodded, finally understanding what they had come here for tonight. "We will be heading about two kilometers north into the surrounding Arklay Forests, where we believe Umbrella has a laboratory. If anybody knows about these forest cannibals, I'm sure it'll be the Umbrella Researchers up there. We will be carrying firearms with us, but you know the rules. Do not use them unless circumstances require. Thank you, Kenny." He nodded his head at me after the papers had been handed out, dismissing me from his immediate line of sight.

As I moved out of the way and towards Officers Redfield, Frost, Valentine and Bernstein, Captain Marini called for the newest member of the Bravo Team, the one Rita had talked to me about this morning. She was a young girl, probably around eighteen or nineteen, maybe a little older but definitely not a legal adult. She was professional in the way she walked and greeted her teammates as Captain Marini introduced her to them – very by the book. The way she acted defied the way she looked – short, chestnut brown hair, round face, and these large, innocent brown eyes like a puppy. Her bullet proof vest bore the red, medical cross. Ah, so that's why Rita told me the rookie's special equipment contained bandages and first aid sprays. She was a medic!

I hoped she was good enough to take care of her teammates in case anyone got hurt. The feeling that something would go wrong never left me, try as I might to suppress it. I tried to hint something to the Alpha members, walking slowly over to them, unaware at the time that Captain Wesker was watching me like a hawk.

"Officer Redfield," I said, tapping him on the upper arm, "I've got to talk to you."

"Sure, Champ," he said, socking me lightly in the shoulder, in a good hearted manner. "Whatcha got for me?"

I grit my teeth at the nickname, but decided my frustration could wait for later. "Can you try and stall the mission, maybe?"

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "And why would you want me to do that?" he asked curiously.

"Captain Wesker was behaving strangely just now, before everyone came here," I explained. "He was alone on the helicopter and I saw sparks flying and …"

"Oh, he was probably just making sure all the equipment was probably secured," Officer Redfield explained. "These things can be pretty bumpy, even for an aircraft."

"But he was acting all …"

"It's your first time seeing these guys get ready for an important mission," he interrupted me, ruffling my hair. "I know you're excited, and you've been working hard all day. You should go home and rest."

"I don't need rest …" I insisted, but he wasn't listening to me for some reason.

"I'll give you a ride home if you need one."

I gave up and headed for Officer Valentine, but she was too busy saying goodbye to her comrades, wishing them luck on their mission. Frustrated at my limited options, I decided to approach Isaac, who only stared condescendingly at me. "You believe me, right?" I asked desperately, but quietly so as to not cause me to get booted from the helipad. "You know I wouldn't lie about this kind of thing, right?"

But Isaac only shook his head at me as he rolled his eyes. "You uptown kids … always need to be the center of attention."

I thought at the time that maybe it was just me. Maybe Officer Redfield was right, that I had been working all day and was most likely tired from work, and then school, and then work again. But I couldn't brush the feeling something had gone wrong. I found out the next day that something indeed had gone wrong. They should've listened to me that night. I will never forget it. I spent the rest of my life wishing I could return to that night. I could've saved lives. I could've even saved all of Raccoon City. All I know is on that night, July 23rd, 1998, the events that I permitted to unfold eventually led to the demise of the entire city. Complete annihilation took only three months. Perhaps those downtown bums weren't getting the credit they deserved.


	4. Chapter 3: Local Dangers

**HHoD: **Now my turn to be nitpicky;) My main character is not Isaac Brown. Isaac is property of Desertcross4, who makes an appearance in this story (and will be making many more). My main character is Kenneth Feng (who is fortunate enough to have been used in Desertcross4's story, "The Price of Normalcy"). Now that we've got all that cleared up, on with the show!

**DemonDoor: **I've already read the chapter to your new RE/FFVII story. But I can't remember if I've reviewed. I'll check right after I post this. But yes, the concept of melding RE and FFVII is fantastic. I'm a huge fan of the Final Fantasy series and NOT JUST VII and onwards. Although, I think my FF fascination is drawing to an end as I'm completely disappointed with XI and not too interested in XII. X2 was the best it got, wouldn't you agree?

**E-Z B:** Hey, long time no hear from you! Yesh, this story is meant to establish Kenny's position in the RE universe, and the events leading up to theoutbreak. His survival storyduring the outbreak isalready chronicled in"World of the Undead". I'm a fan of HHoD's "Project Lucifer" and decided to weave Kenny's story around the same teenage social structure HHoD bases Jack and Lisa's relationship on, involving many of the same characters she uses.

**XXXXX**

My buddy Justin Thomas and I were sitting on the front steps for RCSS the next morning, staring at the blue sky. The sun was just above the horizon, painting the thick, rolling clouds with its brilliant rays. He held a joint between his lips, blowing out thick, white smoke as he puffed away, obscuring my vision of the sky. It was a little colder today for some reason, a good ten degrees or so colder than it was yesterday. The clouds moved slowly, blown by a strong wind from a higher elevation. They gathered over the last ten minutes, growing thicker with every passing second, and gradually began blocking the sun. The wind at ground level started picking up slightly, blowing the smoke from Justin's mouth towards my face.

He was dressed in red and black basketball shorts that came down to his knee, revealing lanky calves and matching sneakers that made his feet look bigger than they really were. His button up T-shirt was made up of the same material as the shorts and the colours matched too - mostly black with red sleeves and the numbers 06 on the front and back. Justin was a real pothead. It's a pity, too, because he used to be one of the star athletes back in middle school and even during our freshman year. Justin played baseball, volleyball and tennis, but the sport that he excelled at hands down was basketball. The only sport he ever had beef with was football because he always considered it an insult to sportsmanship. that is, until he discovered pot.

It started at a party we attended once, at Lisa Hartley's house. The bash was actually organized by Julie, but she figured Lisa's place would be great because her parents were never home anyway. Not that many of us do drugs, and I'm not one of those who do. But there was this one guy there, I don't know who he was, I think an older brother of someone who attended. Anyway, he was the guy who brought the Mary Jane and decided to offer it around. I tried it but didn't really enjoy being high. But Justin - he had a blast and was hooked almost immediately. The stuff isn't addictive or anything, but for Justin, it might as well have been.

His coaches found out sometime in the later half of grade 9 and he got kicked off the various teams. I thought his hopes and dreams would've been crushed, and I didn't hesitate to lecture him on how bad that shit was but much to my surprise, he didn't care that he got kicked from RCSS's various sports teams. As long as he had his pot, he was good. After awhile, I stopped caring. Well, no, I still care about his well being, but its pointless lecturing him if he's not willing to listen.

So today started out like most days - us sitting on the front steps of the school, he with his doobie hanging from his mouth, me with my cigarettes and coffee. Teachers and principals never caught us, despite the obvious spot we were sitting in. We were there early enough in the day for them to be in their morning meetings and coffee, and whatnot. And Justin used his parent's cigarette rollers to make his doobies, so they actually looked like cigarettes. Administration never really cared about cigarettes. They knew a lot of the Raccoon City population smoked, and it wasn't like we could be blamed either. There was nothing much else to do in this boring mountain town.

"Oh MY gosh," an ear piercing voice said condescendingly at me and immediately I knew who it was. Julie Wilberforce, Lisa's official best friend of our year, the two most popular girls in school. She was naturally a brunette, but dyed her hair blonde at the beginning of the year, and wore it in curls – much different than the way she appeared last year. And I don't know how it happened, but all of a sudden, this year she just shot up the social hierarchy. It seemed the new look caused it, but I wasn't going to believe that a simple makeover would have such power in a high school. Julie was being followed by her groupies – as usual, a quartet of girls all with blonde hair, more makeup on their face than the combined weight of their skinny bodies, and designer purses all hanging off their right shoulders. They each wore skirts that reached down to just above their boney knees, revealing the bottoms of stick thin thighs and calves. Julie seemed like the only one remotely proportionate to what a normal human fifteen year old girl should look like, yet I've heard her call her groupies fat on more than one occasion. I never figured out why Lisa agreed to be friends with the girl. Julie was a complete bitch, using whoever she could to get more and more popular. And I doubted she had any real friends who wouldn't ditch her when push came to shove. And Lisa was the absolute opposite, being a kind, sincere and hard working girl – although she can be a little to naïve and trusting sometimes. Maybe she was trying to see the good in Julie that just didn't exist. I'll never know.

"What the fuck do you want?" Justin asked through pressed lips, sucking on his roach.

"Oh, aren't you happy to see me, Justin?" Julie sneered. But before he could answer, she continued. "Of course not. Who am I kidding? After all, you got what you wanted from me last summer, you fucking excuse for a man." Justin only looked up at her with a sleepy smile on his face, his eyes red from the drug.

"It wasn't that hard, considering Concubine Wilberforce is pretty popular around these parts." He stuck up his finger at her.

"Careful," I warned Justin. "Concubines are whores with class."

"It wasn't as good as they say," Justin said to me, though the blow was clearly at Julie.

"Well maybe you'd be able to feel a little more down there if you'd stop smoking that shit!" she said out loud, hoping to catch the attention of one of the teachers who might've been nearby.

"Piss off, Julie," I said. "What are you, trying to get us in trouble?"

"There are better things to do with my life than waste it making yours miserable," she said, taking me by the elbow. "Besides, I came to talk to you, Kenny."

"Don't do it, man," Justin piped up. "Who knows what she's swimming with!"

"Fuck OFF, Justin!" Julie screeched. She turned her attention back to me, leading me away from Justin. "Girls, make sure Justin doesn't get within ten feet of me and Kenny!"

"What do you want?" I asked, as we strolled away from the steps of her school, her arms holding onto my elbow.

Julie spoke in the fakest, sweet voice I've heard anyone muster. "You're a nice guy, Kenny, you really are. And I know you care a lot about other people – kinda like my best friend, Lisa!"

"Right …"

"What?" she asked, faking a gasp, "you don't care about Lisa?"

"I don't wish anything bad upon her, if that's what you mean. Get to the point, Julie."

"Look – I know you and Justin have your differences with me and the rest of the girls. But Lisa bridges our two groups, don't you agree?"

"Why do you keep bringing up Lisa?"

"Because we're losing her, Kenny!" Julie cried, finally breaking into her usual dramatic outbursts that had to happen once a day or it would be the end of the world.

"What do you mean 'losing her'?"

"Notice how she hasn't stopped calling us for parties on the long weekends at her house anymore? Notice how she always acts like she's not interested in talking to us, since she met that stupid puppy dog of a lover boy, Jack Carpenter?"

"Funny, I always thought you did the calling and just held the parties over at Lisa's place without her knowing."

"The point is, those parties don't happen anymore!"

"Well I wouldn't blame her, Jules," I replied. "Lisa seems to really like Jack. And we haven't exactly been nice to the guy. So what reason does she have to be the same around us when she's torn between us two?"

"I am not losing my best friend to downtown scum, Kenny," Julie insisted. "We know what they're like – dirty, penniless, amoral … and that is EXACTLY what Jack is. How can you just stand idly by and let him take advantage of a sweet girl like Lisa?"

"Because my popularity doesn't depend who I label my friends," I answered simply. "I told her what I thought about Jack. She knows I care about her. What she chooses to do now falls on her shoulders. If it's worth it to her losing all of us and keeping him, then good for her cause I really don't care. And if it's a _'wham -__, bam - thank you ma'am'_ deal with Jack, then Lisa fucked herself over and I sure won't be there to pick up the pieces because I already warned her."

"You are not helping the situation."

"Well that do you want me to do!"

"I want you to get Jack away from Lisa. I want my best friend back."

"Yeah, right! How do you expect me to do that?"

"I don't know," Julie said shrugging. "But I trust you'll find a way."

"Kiss my ass, Julie," I said, turning back towards the school. "I'm not helping you start the next popularity gong-show of the school year."

"My father's a lawyer, Kenny," she said, calling after me. "I know about your status here in America." I spun around, eyes and nostrils flared in fear and anger. How in the world did Julie know? She wore a smug smile on her face, hands folded behind her back in mock modesty. "Word gets around the school pretty damn fast. I know about all the shit you say about me behind my back, but I also know all the shit people say about YOU."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"All I have to do is tell my dad about the legitimacy of just how you got to our cozy little mountainside community, and you'll be booted back to Japan." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The life I had worked so hard to build myself in Raccoon City was about to be shattered by a high school girl over some popularity contest. It seemed inconceivable, but here she was, standing right in front of me muttering the very threat. I'd hardly told anymore, barely mentioned how I got to America – how was it that of all people, Julie Wilberforce was able to find out? "If you don't help me with our little issue with Jack Carpenter, I will see to it that my father gets you out of this country on the same leaky boat Jack came on!"

**XXXXX**

My smoke break with Chris today was spent mostly in silence. He wasn't his normal, cheerful self, instead choosing to puff on his cigarette and stare at his booted feet and the litter all over the alley floor. We had little to say to each other, me with my latest threat from the bitch of the school and he with the latest news going around the S.T.A.R.S. office, news that I'd happened to hear about earlier this morning.

Aside from the social bullshit going around school, mostly revolving around Jack Carpenter and Julie's inferiority issues, the mysterious cannibal murders were starting to affect Raccoon citizens on a  
grander scale. I found myself filing more and more cases of these bizarre murders and they were creeping me out. It had only been a matter of weeks and they were already becoming a regular occurrence. Nobody at school seemed to really notice yet, being the sheltered uptown kids that we are and sofar, most of the cases have been occurring downtown. But working at the police station gave me some real insight as to what kind of shit was hitting the fan when it came to Raccoon City as a whole.

"We're going in tonight," Chris finally said, breaking the silence, blowing his a plume of smoke into the air.

"What ..." I blinked, confused as to what he was referring to.

"Bravo's failed in their mission."

"They weren't able to find anyone responsible for the murders?" I asked.

"Worse," Chris replied, never taking his eyes off the ground. "They haven't returned. They were supposed to report back early this morning, but we haven't heard anything from them. Their chopper crashed."

My heart dropped into my stomach hearing those words. The chopper had crashed. Something went wrong. I immediately thought about Wesker's shady presence just before the mission launch yesterday. My instincts were telling me to do something yesterday and I completely ignored them. I could've prevented this. Why was I so stupid?

"It's not your fault," Chris said straight away, seemingly having read my thoughts. "It's ours, for not listening."

"You had no reason to believe," I admitted. "I'm just an unpaid lackey who knows dipshit about what I'm doing."

"But you know what you saw."

"So you believe me about Wesker?"

"I don't think he had anything to do with it - but I'm sure you witnessed something important. I mean, why would Wesker choose to sabotage his own men? He's the one who founded the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. unit. He's a cold guy I admit, but I don't even think he's capable of pulling off something like this. Whatever the case, they're sending us over to the Arklay mountains tonight - the entire Alpha team - and Wesker's coming with us. We'll find out what's going on, and put a stop to it once and for all."

Something about the tone of his voice, maybe the way he stood and refused to make eye contact with me - I sensed despair. There was no way of telling if Bravo was alright. I kept an optimistic view, despite that. They weren't average hikers lost up there in the woods. With the exception of the rookie, they were battle hardened warriors most likely capable of surviving for far more than a day in the wilderness, at least more than your average Joe. And I even think one of those would be capable of surviving for longer than a day. But with those cannibal murders occurring left and right? Suddenly, I could understand why Chris was so worried – for them, and probably for himself as well. He was going in after them.

"Are you scared?"

Chris looked at me like I was crazy. "I may be a S.T.A.R.S. officer," he said, "but I'm far from superman. I always get like this before a mission. I always get scared. I'd have to be crazy not to, Kenny. I've got a lot to live for, as I'm sure you do too."

"I wasn't trying to attack you," I said quickly, but I might've ended up sounding defensive instead, so I elaborated. "I meant, well … I'm pretty nervous too, about all these murders happening. And lately, they've been making their way towards the center of town. What if it reaches? What if all of Raccoon City suddenly plunges …"

"Now you're starting to sound crazy," Chris smirked, taking another puff of his cigarette. I watched as the glowing embers gradually shortened the stick, glowing as he sucked the air in, and then went for mine and suddenly, I felt fine – well, finer, at least. It was amazing what this stuff could do for you.

**XXXXX**

It just scared me to think that my closest guarded secret was now information to Julie Wilberforce - information that she could use to literally ruin my life. She was the stereotypical rich girl of Raccoon City, spoiled rotten ten times over, with a gorgeous body that she never had to work for a day of her life. Her father probably paid for plastic surgery or genetic altering for her twelfth birthday. And I knew she wouldn't hesitate to use that information against me if I didn't help her with her ridiculous, twisted issue with Jack Carpenter.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Kenny?" Rita asked, her sharp southern twang snapping me out of my daze. I blinked and looked at her questioningly, trying to figure out what she'd just said. "You've been reading your task list for a few minutes now. Three items isn't too much, is it?"

"Oh, no, not at all," I replied, shaking my head. "I was just thinking about ... well ..."

"Listen," she said, putting a soft hand on my shoulder, "you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But you don't have to think of me as your supervisor all the time. If you have anything on your mind you want to discuss, you can feel free to talk to me about it."

"Thanks, Rita," I said. "But I think I'll be alright. Thanks for being there, though." The truth was, I wanted to ask her if it was possible for me to be deported. My student VISA was legal, but I don't think I got it the legal way. Whatever the case, when I was living on the streets of Osaka, my only income being the money Mr. Masters would wire to my bank account every month, I decided to scrape some money together and get the hell out of there. I mentioned my ideas to move to the States to a few people in passing, and somehow, a few weeks later, I got a message from Mr. Masters who had sent someone to deliver me my student VISA. The guy had paid for me. Something about it didn't sound right – I'd never met anyone, never had any interviews, never even stepped foot into the American consulate in Osaka and all of a sudden I'm granted a VISA to the States?

My only theory was that Mr. Masters was watching me. He'd planted spies all around me, watching my every movement and reported back to him. How else would he have found out about my plans to get to the States? Secondly, he must've either had a really high position either in the business or government world, or he could've been a crime overlord because there was just NO other way he would've gotten me my VISA without even meeting me face to face. And my biggest worry was that if Julie managed to pull some strings and get her father to check out my status in this country, he'd find the truth and if they decided to get me deported, would I be able to fight to stay here? Would Mr. Masters back me up then? I mean, I paid my taxes as an international student, and as a homeowner according to the laws of the county. I went to school and was a law abiding citizen. The only black mark was how I got permission to enter the country. But it didn't matter, as long as the permission was granted right?

"Kenny, you're staring again."

"Oh, sorry Rita," I said, snapping out of my second daze in a matter of seconds.

"Could you please start filing now?"

"Yes, ma'am." I dug my hands through the piles of papers, organizing the sealed case folders by last name and the type of case. I could've done it in the filing room in the west wing, but if I organized them right now at the main desk in the lobby, all I'd have to do is carry them over and plop them in their respective cabinets later. Besides, there was a lot more room to work out here, as opposed to that stuffy room.

After finishing organizing the pile, I picked up the stack, tucked it under an arm and prepared to go on my merry way. But I was cut off abruptly by a large crash, squeals of surprise from Rita, and some flying stacks of papers. I turned my head out of curiosity, wondering who would dare cause such a ruckus in a police station of all places. And upon seeing who it was, a mischievous smile crept across my face. I didn't have to look to see who it was – the stench gave it away – not to mention the faux Mexican accent. It was none other than Jack Carpenter, struggling with Officer Aaron – a sturdily built cop with short brown hair cut close to his scalp, who nobody fucked around with; not even the S.T.A.R.S. members.

"Yo' lemme go, man!" Jack cried, his brow length blond hair swaying into his eyes. "I told you, I be doin' nothing wrong!"

"Settle down, kiddo," Officer Aaron ordered, "or you _will _be doing something wrong."

Jack looked up and spotted me staring back at him as a gleam of hope lit in his eye. Whatever made him think I was going to help him get out of his predicament, I have no idea. Knowing his kind, he probably deserved to be in here, locked up somewhere in the jail cells with the K9 units.

"Kenny, you know these guys, bra," he said, trying to plead with me to help him. "You know me. Tell 'em I be doin' nothing, man! You know I'm not some thug!"

A laugh burst from my mouth without me even intending it to. "Now we're buds, eh, Jack?" He gave me a puzzled look as I continued, this time talking to Officer Aaron. "Sir, would it be okay if I just had a few words with Mr. Carpenter?" I asked politely. Officer Aaron rolled his eyes and conceded.

"You kids really need to find time to socialize in school," he said. "You boys have five minutes." I stepped around the desk and walked over to Jack who looked relieved as I approached him. But did I ever have a mouthful for the downtown trash.

"Thanks man," he said, spewing out his gratitude in a never-ending river of mindless words that went in through one ear and out the other. "I totally owe you one, and if you ever need any favors, I swear …"

"I choose not to associate with people like you if I can help it," I hissed, suddenly cutting him off. "You've got a lot of nerve – coming into the school ripping up our social circle by first of all replacing Charlotte Lascelles and if that wasn't a bad enough blow, you take her best friend to have for your every own!"

"You talkin' about Lise?" he asked.

Lise? What a disgusting nickname. "Yeah," I nodded, "I'm talking about Lisa. Who do you think you are, coming in here and turning her against us?"

"I din' do nothing to Lise," he said innocently, putting his hands up defensively. "I din' tell her to do nothing either. I just be her friend, man. An' she be my friend. That's all it is."

"So that's why she's been completely ignoring Julie lately," I said. "Because she's been friends with you?" Now this was where I had to break out the drama skills. I didn't particularly care for the Julie/Lisa Official Best Friends Alliance, but with Julie's threats earlier this afternoon, I had something riding on these skills. I couldn't afford to be booted from RCSS, not with things going so well for my future. I couldn't afford leaving town after having made so many connections at the precinct – hell, I couldn't leave the damn country! I had to fight to stay …

"Lise is a free girl, man," Jack said, jumping to her defense. "She can do whatever she wants, and I be happy for her. But I never _told_ her to do nothing!" He was a stubborn one and it looked like he wasn't going to learn his lesson anytime soon. "I'm done with him, Officer Aaron," I announced. The hulking cop came over and hauled Jack away, who stared back angrily at me. "Stay the hell away from Lisa or there'll be some real trouble at school," I spat, before he led Jack away, towards the front of the main hall and into the east wing, probably down to the cells. There, I did my part. I threatened Jack and told him to stay away from Lisa, just like Julie asked. Wow, I was her bitch. And my conversation with Jack just moments ago proved it. A cold shiver made its way up my spine.

**XXXXX**

School later that afternoon was hell. I wasn't sure how much longer I could go on like this – school in the early morning, work before noon, afternoon classes, and the work again at night. Already, I was thinking about the filing tasks I left unfinished to get completed by tonight, even as I sat through another one of Bietelbaum's horribly dry history lectures. To my left, Julie sat with one leg elegantly crossed over the other, busily taking notes – or doodling, I honestly couldn't tell. Justin was on my right, staring off into space with a baseball cap hiding the top of his eyes, just so that Bietelbaum, who was standing above his head level, wouldn't be able to tell he was sleeping. Unfortunately for him, we all knew what Justin Thomas was like in class, especially in history.

"And therefore, this is why the war isn't particularly obvious in American history," she said, snatching Justin's hat off his head with one fluid motion, more swiftly than I'd seen any walrus move before. "The only war we ever fought with the Canadians, we lost. And they succeeded in burning down the White House." She opened her mouth to groan another sentence, but was fortunately cut off by a well timed bell. As the class quickly swept their belongings into awaiting backpacks, she remembered to yell out, "Remember to read the first half of chapter 5 tonight! We will be having a quiz first thing next class, so don't say I didn't warn you!" But the reminder fell upon deaf ears.

I headed out of the room hurriedly, stuffing the textbook and notes into my bag and began running for the locker in preparation for work tonight. More importantly, I was trying to escape Julie as she was no doubt hunting me down right now. She was probably so absorbed in her "note taking" that she hadn't even noticed the bell ring. So I decided to take the opportunity and get the hell out of there before I could be seen with her.

"And where are you off to in such a hurry?" she asked, leaning against one arm against _my _locker.

"Picking on little kids again?" Justin asked her, appearing from behind me. "Just get the hell out of here, Julie. You know Kenny doesn't like you and honestly, neither do I …"

Julie folded her arms across her chest and frowned at me. She looked up at Justin through sneered lips, who still stood behind me like I needed any backup against Julie, and she sighed. I got the hint. I understood what she wanted me to do. "Justin could you please give me and Julie a moment of privacy?" I asked weakly.

"WHAT!" he gasped. "Alright, man. Don't say I didn't try to stop you getting involved with the likes of her." He backed off and continued on his way down the hall.

"What a nice friend," she noted sarcastically.

"What do you want?" I demanded, cutting to the chase.

"I want to know how your day went."

"Well after having the pleasure of chatting with you this morning, I proceeded to the vending machines to purchase a small decaf light roast with two creams and one lump of sugar before heading off to Math, after which I packed up and headed to work at the precinct, where I organized some criminal report files and …"

"Did you fucking talk to Jack?" she interrupted, nearly biting my head off.

"Yeah," I replied. "Lucky for you, they hauled him into the precinct this morning, where I was given a chance to tell him to stay away from Lisa."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. He just kinda looked at me like he wanted to kill me. And who knows what kinds of guns he and his mother might own. You're a pal, Julie." I patted her on the shoulder before turning around.

"Ew, don't touch me!" she ordered. But as I walked away, she ran to catch up. "I'm not finished with you yet, Kenny!"

I was about to turn back and yell at Julie – yell at her for looking like the bad guy, dictating who Jack has the freedom to be friends with, who Lisa can associate with, speaking for all the uptown kids. I could understand how it'd work for Julie though. If any of this backfired, it would fall on my shoulders and she'd get off free. I was her damn scapegoat and I was sick of this bullshit already. But I never got the chance to yell at her for before I even got the chance to turn around to face the sniveling bitch, I felt a sharp slap on my cheek. My vision blurred, and I saw stars, tears streaking from the corners of my eyes as I held a hand to my now red, burning face. I heard Julie snicker.

As the tears gradually fell out of my eyes and my vision cleared, I saw Lisa standing there with a fierce look of anger in her yes. Her round gentle face twisted into a mask of pure hatred – and she looked like she was about to cry even though I was the one who'd just been slapped.

"Lisa?" I asked out of confusion.

"What did you say to Jack!" she screamed.

"What are you …" But I comprehended what was happening too quickly for me to iterate. Anything I said came out as a blurb of complete and utter confusion, ironically enough.

"He called me from the precinct and told me everything!" she said, answering her own question. "He's sitting in a jail cell right now and scared half to death, Kenny! And you know his aunt Rosa is too poor to bail him out if they decide to press charges for anything! You could've helped him but you chose not to. That would've been fine, but instead you chose to threaten him in the middle of the police station – and tell him to stay away from ME? Who the hell are you to tell us who we should hang out with, Kenny? I never thought you were like that!"

"Listen to me, Lisa," I said trying to explain, but I never got the chance.

"Christ, Kenny, did you really threaten Jack today?" Julie sneered. "You sure got some balls, doing that, especially when you know Jack's got a thing for Lisa."

"He does not, Julie …" she said.

"Regardless, Lisa," Julie said, walking past me, "I'd be careful who I hang around with. Kenny gives a pretty bad example of us uptown kids. I guess we can't expect anything more from someone who was abandoned by his own parents." She tossed her head and walked down the hall, completely content with herself. I hoped the cannibal murderers reached her that night.

"…what is she talking about?" Lisa asked, noticing I'd gone deadly silent for a brief moment. I looked back at Lisa, this time the tears in my eyes shed from anger and betrayal, not from being slapped. But instantly, I could tell Lisa gut wrenched with guilt when she saw my expression. Something was very wrong with the shit Julie was making me do, and Lisa couldn't know any of it. I had no choice. I was a damn good scapegoat for Julie and I had to keep it up if I did want my future crashing before my eyes.


	5. Chapter 4: Falling STARS

**Dynamis**You are officially the first person I know of who's stuck with my stories over the different games they cover. At least someone cares enough to pay attention. You've made my day.

**E-Z B:** Good to know that Kenny is mixing well with the Project Lucifer cast, and other characters in the RE series in your eyes.

**HHoD** I don't know if its' just me being a bad reader, but I re-read the earlier chapters of Project Lucifer for a physical description of Julie Wilberforce and Justin Thomas, but I wasn't able to find anything. And only now I realize that Justin was a characterless name you mentioned here and there, though I don't think he had any dialogue. The important thing is I am capturing your characters the way you see them.

**XXXXX**

For the second night in a row, I stood on the helipad rooftop of the R.P.D. precinct, the same cold wind whipping at my hair, sending my clothes into ripples. The same clouded, purple sky loomed above my head, colored by the setting sun. I gazed out into the city, noting how quiet it got. Normally, the streets would be busier, abundant with nightlife. But I suppose the cannibal murders were starting to get people a little nervous. I also noticed something strange lingering in the air, an odor that reeked of sickness and death. There was an ominous feeling in the air that night, a feeling of foreboding and dread. And I knew exactly why. Turning around, I saw the remaining S.T.A.R.S. members gearing up for their next mission – and probably their final. I didn't like thinking that way, but I couldn't shake the feeling. This was exactly what happened last night, only that atmosphere was a little more relaxed with the Bravo members confident that they'd return in a few hours with their mission accomplished. But I knew – we all knew – this wasn't necessarily the case with the Alpha members. I wanted our team back. I wanted them all home, safe in their warm beds within the city limits of Raccoon. How my mind would change in just a few weeks …

Officer Redfield – I mean, Chris – was checking his handgun, loading it with 9mm rounds as he sat on the ground, looking like he had trouble moving in his combat gear. Officer Valentine slapped her trademark blue beret on her head at an angle, tucking her long brown hair under it in a snug bun. She was lacing up her outdoor boots while holding a sheathed combat knife by the blade between her teeth. Captain Wesker and Officer Burton, a larger, older, more experienced S.T.A.R.S. member with a mane of facial hair stood by the water tower, just at the nose of the helicopter whispering in hushed voices.

Officer Frost sat silently on his knees on the helipad pavement, silent as a ghost. His eyes were locked at nothing in particular, in concentration while his girlfriend, Officer Amber Bernstein knelt beside him, tying his bandana onto his head. They were a couple deeply in love, and now it seemed to be she was the loving wife, preparing to see her husband off to war while she remained at home only to worry at every waking moment about his safety. Amber hadn't made a single joke to me today, not even to her closest co-workers. Whatever was going on tonight, it was serious enough for even Amber to lose that comical side of her for the evening.

She had a trail of tears dripping down the side of her face, smeared with dirt. Her eyes were red, bloodshot, but she paid them no heed, focusing on making Officer Frost as comfortable as she could before he left her. "Officer Bernstein," I said, kneeling down beside her, "Officer Frost."

"You shouldn't be here," Amber said. "This isn't some regular mission. This is a rescue mission."

"It's my job to help around wherever I can," I replied. "And after what happened here last night, I just wanted to make sure …"

"We should've listened yesterday," Amber interrupted. "And I'm sorry we didn't. But we won't be making that mistake again. And I don't want to put you in a situation like this. You should be at home where it's safe." Officer Bernstein was at an emotional high, and I thought it best that I leave her be for the moment.

My duties were the same as the night before. I had to hand out the mission briefing notes while Captain Wesker blabbered at the Alpha members, confirming the mission objectives with the team before they took off. I was suspicious this time, wondering how he was going to screw them over. I know I had no proof against him, but his shady exterior was rubbing me the wrong way. I couldn't help but shake the feeling there was something off with the guy. Chris was right – I couldn't make any calls against the S.T.A.R.S. captain. And doing so would take a lot of guts. I mean, who's ever head of a volunteer lackey accusing the team captain of corruption? I'd be kicked out of my position before I could even point my finger. I decided to keep it low this time and just let fate run its course. I knew my place.

I headed over to the stairs leading down to the lower level from the roof, planting my butt in on the landing, right beside Isaac, the S.T.A.R.S. secretary. He looked pretty distraught, not that I blamed him actually. If my girlfriend went missing while on duty, I'd be worried too. Oh, I might not have mentioned it, but somewhere along the line, he'd met Rebecca Chambers, the rookie on Bravo Team who'd left for her mission just yesterday. She was one of the missing. I wasn't in the loop, but I heard from somewhere along the grapevine that they'd started dating each other. And now this had to happen. I didn't like Isaac, but surely nobody deserved to be in this position. He was slumped over, face buried in his hands, his red hair disheveled – like it normally was, but today it seemed worse for some reason.

"Are you alright?" I asked. I wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, to tell him to have faith in the S.T.A.R.S. and that everything would work out fine. But for one thing, I wasn't so sure about that myself and secondly, it was easy for me to say that cause my girlfriend wasn't the one missing and probably dead for all I knew.

"I attacked someone today," he admitted. Isaac didn't sound like the overconfident cocky bastard I'd come to know and hate. His words sounded like a confession, more than a bragging right. "It happened at work."

Now that was something I wouldn't put past Isaac Brown. I'd never actually seen him do something like that but judging by his inferiority complex, his overconfident behavior, and by how we almost got into a scrap in front of the S.T.A.R.S. office of all places, I could totally see him attacking one of his co-workers in a fit of rage. "Who was it?" I asked more out of curiosity than concern, but was sure to soften my tone, make it sound a little more sympathetic.

"Some street rat from downtown," he replied. "He was running away from the cops in the east wing, by the stairs that lead down to the basement. I just happened to be there, and it pissed me off to see someone defy the cops like that, totally disrespecting their authority. And I dunno … maybe it was cause I was worried about Rebecca, but I totally went hog wild on his ass – pinned him to the ground, Judo style."

"You didn't get in trouble, did you?"

"No, the cops seemed thankful, if anything. Martial Arts training has done wonders as far as what I can do, but it's done nothing for my self control." I pulled out a cigarette from my pocket and prepared to light it, when Isaac looked at it and licked his lips.

"What?" I asked, noticing him looking hungrily at my smoke.

"You think I can try one of those?" he asked out of the blue.

"But … you don't smoke," I replied. "You can have one if you want but … are you sure?"

"I hear they calm you down in times of despair. I'm willing to try anything at this point."

"Sure," I said, pulling out a stick for him. "But you're not getting hooked on this shit. You know what it does to you and I don't wanna be responsible for you dying."

"Don't worry, I won't hold you accountable."

"So …" I said, lighting the smoke with my book of matches, passing it onto him, "you attacked a street rat today, huh? One of my friends at school is friends with a group called the 'Street Rats'. She might know him."

"I don't think this is something you wanna be telling him then," Isaac said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Her, actually," I corrected, "Lisa's her name. She's a weird one, mixing with that skater group that does nothing but loiters around stores and causes trouble for the good citizens."

"I think the kid I took down was their leader or something," Isaac said. "I didn't know at the time, but I found out a little later that his name was Jack Carpenter, when I was looking at his records. I'm not supposed to do that kinda shit, but I was curious, just so I knew who to apologize to later."

My cigarette fell from my mouth in shock. "Jack Carpenter?" I asked, taken aback. "Then don't worry about the apology! That kid's been the bane of our existence ever since he moved to Raccoon a few weeks ago."

"You know him?"

"We go to the same school," I replied. "But yeah, he took one of our good friends, this Lisa girl I'm talking about, and turned her against the rest of us. He continues to maintain his innocence, but we all know its bullshit. She's changed ever since he showed up. I think she's jaded by him, personally, though I can't understand why. It's not too big of a stretch of the imagination that he'd end up here at the police station one of these days."

Isaac and I shared a chuckle – and then it hit me for the first time that maybe – just maybe this guy wasn't such a jackass after all. Taking a step back away from this rare situation, I realized that had I not known the history of rivalry between us, I would've never guessed that we actually hated each other. Maybe we had a chance at friendship after all … NAH!

**XXXXX**

I was staring at my feet, hunched over at our usual spot at the front steps of the school thinking about nothing in particular, just bathing in stress and worry. I found that very that method very therapeutic, when you're alone and its quiet and you can focus on exactly what it is you're feeling and come to terms with your emotions - accept them. The sounds of my school mates in the distance, loud and obnoxious were just one constant drone to my ears, having succeeded in almost shutting them out completely.

Julie was probably going to come looking for me and ask me how my progress with Jack was going sofar. I couldn't believe what she'd done yesterday, forcing me to act like a jackass on her behalf and then when Lisa showed up, turned around and stabbed me in the back. Normally I wouldn't have stood for it and told her to piss off right then and there. Then again, normally, I wouldn't be working as one of Julie's accomplices. I was no better than her little foursome of groupies that followed her around as sadly as Jack trailed Lisa.

Then there was the issue with the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team. I was worried for them and with good reason. They were the cream of the crop when it came to defending our quiet mountain community. Before S.W.A.T., we relied on the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo had already gone down shortly after their mission started, and Alpha was just sent in last night to retrieve them. I glanced at the sports watch strapped to my left wrist. It was a quarter past eight in the morning and my shift at the precinct started at half past eleven. I couldn't wait to get there and find out what happened.

It would be devastating if they discovered Bravo had perished. It would be worse if Alpha shared their fate - having their communications cut off and leaving the rest of us back in Raccoon just not knowing what happened to them. That was the worst of it all, really. Not knowing.

"Dude, you look like shit." Before I snapped my head up to look at the speaker, I noticed the pool of shadow that fell into my field of vision. Hearing the voice, I knew who it was - Justin Thomas. Not to mention the smell of marijuana permeating the air around him.

"Oh, you're here early this morning," I replied.

"That's what sucks about summer school man," he said. "The parents are so set on getting me out of this boring town and into the real world, they're making me fucking take summer school."

"Seems like the story of all of us," I said. "I'm here cause I don't  
wanna fall behind."

"You're far enough ahead already, buddy."

"Yeah ..." Not if Julie had anything to say about it.

"What's bothering you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Wilberforce, ain't it? I don't know why you're willing to be associated with her. I was fuckin' floored yesterday when you told me to leave you two alone for a second. What the hell was up with that? I thought you hated her!"

"Shit, Justin, you know I do."

"Then what's with the exclusive Kenny/Julie tag-team all of a sudden man?"

"You know about how I got to Raccoon City, right?"

"Yeah ..." he nodded. "What about it?"

"Well I'm not sure how legal it was. I paid my way here, under the table stuff."

"It sounds kinda shady, I'll admit. You're lucky you've got that rich uncle of yours. But you pay your taxes, you got your VISA. You don't work so it's not like you're taking away any jobs from American citizens ... I don't know how much they can hold against you. But how does any of this involve Wilberforce?"

"She knows."

"WHAT!

"And she's threatened to use that information against me if I didn't co-operate with her."

"That fucking bitch! So that's what she talked to you about yesterday when she harassed us?" I nodded in reply. "Wow, Kenny. I ... God, I don't know what to say. How did she find out?"

"Rumors and gossip, I suppose."

"Her dad's a pretty successful lawyer. Holy shit, man, I didn't think she'd sink that low. This is serious. Why did she threaten you?"

"She'll flaunt her power however she can with or without motivation from others. But in this case, she wants me to break up Jack Carpenter and Lisa Hartley. She says Jack's stealing Lisa away from her. But you and me know …" 

Justin nodded in agreement and chuckled. "Lisa's ditching Julie? Finally! The girl finally got half a brain."

"Except Julie's using me to stop that process."

"I swear, if Julie wasn't a girl, I'd have her lying in a ditch somewhere by now. Or feed her to the cannibal murderers." He chuckled at his own joke, although I could sense some sincerity in it. I shot him an angry look.

"The cannibal murders are nothing to be joking about, man."

"Whoa, defensive much?"

"It's serious. I keep reading about the cases at work. While we're blissfully unaware in our cozy uptown area, there's some serious shit happening downtown. People are dying or going missing like, everyday. Crazy bums are coming in telling us about mysterious moans and the stink of death getting worse everyday in the area."

"And the police are believing a bunch of downtown drunks?"

"Because their stories are all consistent."

"Hmm, that _is_ interesting," Justin agreed. "I didn't know bums could organize themselves like that to fabricate such an elaborate lie."

"Have you been downtown?"

"No, I stay the hell away from that area if I can."

"Then you wouldn't know."

"Seriously, man, you gotta calm the hell down! You're not usually this uptight." Justin raised his tone, indicating that he wasn't trying to joke around anymore. Maybe I was pissing him off more than I thought. And that wouldn't have a good thing, considering he was trying to help me out.

"Sorry," I apologized, "but I keep wondering – what if the murders start happening up here?"

"Gimme a break! The police won't allow that kind of shit to happen up here! They'll protect the area if we're at risk."

"Just like they're protecting downtown, right?" That's all it took to silence Justin. He frown in thought and conceded.

"You make sense," he said. "But what you're suggesting is pretty extreme. They're going to find the killers and jail their sorry asses. It's pretty populated up here. We're a community, not all drugged up and disoriented like the people downtown. We'll pull together and help the cops if we have to. And I don't even think it'll come to that. We got the S.T.A.R.S. protecting the town, man!"

Except half the S.T.A.R.S. unit is missing and could be dead for all we knew. But that was classified information. I wasn't at liberty to spread any information beyond the precinct walls. Since Alpha went after their comrades, there was nobody left to protect the city – not at the present moment, anyway. We just had the cops. I didn't know anything about these cannibal killers but I was sure the cops were more than capable of taking care of these criminals. But they were so elusive, so good at remaining in the shadows and striking so randomly. Still, surely they wouldn't be beyond the police's abilities. Justin was being optimistic about the whole situation. He was one of the blissfully unaware. Or maybe I was one of the strangely paranoid. In either case, I had no reason to share his optimism, know what I knew so I just faked a smile and nodded. "Yeah, we're probably gonna be okay."

"Good. Now give me a cigarette."

**XXXXX**

It was a sad day at the police department today. I practically flew from afternoon classes at school to work, J-walking whenever I could, dodging fellow pedestrians, tripping over my own shoe laces. The summer heat was beginning to let up a little as rain clouds rolled overhead. It had been like this for the last couple of days, bringing welcomed relief from the heat.

"You're early," Rita said, when I walked through the main double doors and nearly crashed into her.

"The S.T.A.R.S.," I replied, catching my breath. "Are they alright?"

I could see her swallow hard, as she prepared to give me some bad news. She didn't need to say anything, really. Rita's reaction told me everything I needed to know. They were dead. "Kenny," Rita began, "when you're working in this field, you've got to accept that death is a part of the job. That's what we do. We put our lives on the line for people all the time."

"All of them?" I asked, hoping at least some of the S.T.A.R.S. had made it.

"It's horrible," Rita said, censoring nothing. "Bravo's gone. They all died – all of them, except the rookie, Rebecca. Alpha lost Captain Wesker and Officer Frost. Chris, Jill, Barry, and Brad made it. But …"

"Are they alright? Did they find the killers?" I didn't intend it, but my voice was growing increasingly desperate and worried.

Rita scratched the back of her head. "They're alright, physically speaking. But the stories they're telling – I don't know what happened up in the Arklay mountains, but they seem to have gone crazy."

Now crazy was something no police officer could afford to be. Their jobs relied on logical, spur of the moment thinking. They were typically well trained in this sort of the thing. And the S.T.A.R.S. were the cream of the crop when it came to this. So how was it that they'd gone "crazy" in one night?

"Listen," Rita advised, "the S.T.A.R.S. are on edge right now, the officers are nervous just being around them. Marvin has asked them to go home, but none of them will hear it. So please, just stay out of their way, okay?"

"No problem," I said. "Given their abilities, I wouldn't want to piss off a crazy S.T.A.R.S. operative. So, whatcha got for me today?"

"Nothing much, really," Rita sighed. "I was talking to the chief today, and he suggested you take the day off. The atmosphere around here's been crazy at best so he thinks it'd be best if you just stayed away for the day while all the drama gets sorted out."

"But my work experience hours …"

"You're pretty dedicated to this job," Rita said, "so I think its time we paid you back the favor. Why don't you go on patrol with one of the officers today? I'll count the time spent towards your volunteer hours."

My eyes must've opened wide with joy or something, as Rita waved her hand at me and told me to move along. "It's no problem, really. It's the least I can do after all you've done for us, coming here twice a day with classes in between that. Just don't tell Chief Irons."

"Ha, no way. You don't have to worry about that." I may have answered to Chief Irons at the end of the day, but to be honest, I never liked talking to the guy, or even being around him for that matter. He was an overweight, lazy glutton who indulged in putting down the officers working below him, and in sick and twisted forms of art. Taxidermy was one of his hobbies, but the way he chose to pose the animals when stuffing them – it was grotesque and downright scary. Hardly anybody was allowed in his third floor personal office, which was where all the stuffed animals were kept proudly on display. I could just imagine him staring up adoringly at his dead animals – creepy. The only people allowed in his office were any Umbrella representatives. They came once in awhile, probably making sure with the chief that whatever they did fell within the law. Sure, the pharmaceutical company may have run the entire city, but at least they were decent enough to make sure they stayed within the law. I can think of a few more companies that didn't care.

Anyway, I'm getting off on a tangent here. The point is, I didn't like talking to the chief so Rita didn't have to worry about me telling the chief she was letting me go on patrol! I hardly ever got to do that – something about accompanying an officer being too dangerous. Well if they let me ride in a car with Officer Kevin Ryman, I don't see why they wouldn't let me tag along for a bank robbery retaliation mission.

I felt a sharp slap on my shoulder. "Hey, kiddo, you all ready to head out!" I turned around and nearly died of shock. Speak of the freakin' devil.

"Officer Ryman," I choked. "I … I'm going on patrol with you?"

"Sure are, man. We'll be leaving in about an hour so get your stuff and get ready for a tour of the town!" I could see why they asked him to get me away from the station. With strange atmosphere after the return of Alpha team, with the sudden death of nearly the entire Bravo team, people would be sad. There were police officers working in that building that were ex-comrades of the S.T.A.R.S. members, other members who were eligible, but not selected to be part of the team. These people knew each other, some worked together for years, others having known each other since childhood – they were a close knit community. And in the last two days, there have been a total of seven deaths – all within the S.T.A.R.S. unit. Officer Ryman was a happy go lucky guy who took life as it came to him, making the best of every bad situation. But I was getting a sense of regret and sadness from even him. It was the way his eyes looked – a little droopier than normal, and he'd lost the bounce in his step, though is vocal tone was the same. I think it was taking him some effort to maintain just that.

**XXXXX**

We still had another twenty minutes before Officer Ryman was scheduled to take me out of this place. If I had a say in it, I wouldn't want to go anywhere with him, given the car ride I had to endure the other day. I spent the better half of the last forty minutes mentally preparing myself for the ride ahead. I would be terrifying as hell but at least I knew he could pull it off. I was tidying up the workstation after getting a head start for the duties I'd have to cover next day. I was flipping through a stack of papers and it didn't take long for a particular newspaper article to jump out at me. It'd been clipped from a recent copy of the Raccoon Times and paper clipped to a case report. This particular file was different than all the others because of the photograph – or the subject in it, I should say, caught my attention.

It was a picture of a man who at first glace, seemed to be an ordinary downtown bum. But the expression on his face was … well … there was no expression on his face. His pupils had lost most of their color, he was drooling and judging by the stance, looked as if he were shuffling towards the photographer. The color of his skin was a sickly gray, his hair was a mop of dead frizz, and … was that blood coming out of his mouth? The picture got me really curious, and I turned the article over and found an original copy of the photograph. The colors were richer this time, and I was clear that his skin really was gray. But the original print revealed more details like the boils on this guys skin, the blood on his lips, making him look like a clown. Turning the photograph over, I saw a note scribbled in pencil.

_Found this on the body of one of the latest victims. It's an exclusive photo, probably taken before the victim died. Could this be one of the cannibal killers? – Alyssa Ashcroft. _

Cannibal killer? The thing looked like a fucking walking corpse. Somehow, I doubted something that sickly looking had the capacity to be a killer. Secondly, what the hell _was _that? It looked like it belonged in some horror movie. It looked like … a zombie? No way, there was no such thing.

"Kenny you have to help me," somebody said loudly and suddenly, giving me the scare of my life. I dropped the stack of papers and yelled in surprise, only to see my classmate, Lisa Hartley standing before me.

"Lisa!" I exclaimed out of surprise. "W…what are you doing here?"

"Because of you," she began with a tone of bitterness in her voice, "Jack never got to go home last night. I went over to his house today to see if he was alright, but his Aunt Rosa told me he wasn't home and he'd have to pay a fine if he wanted to be released from prison."

"Oh come on Lisa," I scoffed, "give me a break. You actually believe that shit that Jack's in prison?"

"Y…you mean he's not?" she asked, her eyes widening with hope.

"He spent the night here, but they can't keep him here. He'll just have to pay the fine, that's about it I think."

"Oh …"

"Why? Is everything okay?"

"I came here to …" Lisa opened her hands, and I saw bills upon bills, each one worth one hundred dollars.

I nearly choked on my own spit. "You're paying the fine for him? Holy shit … Where'd you get that kind of money?"

"My parents keep a stash in the safe," she replied honestly, "and they add to it with every pay check they get. Umbrella pays them well so I doubt they'll even notice that the five hundred bucks is gone."

"You STOLE money from your parents?" I asked. "Lisa … what's happening to you? You wouldn't do something like that! Why this sudden change in values?"

"They would never approve of me bailing Jack out."

"That's because he got himself into this shit!"

"You have no idea how the police discriminate against downtown citizens, just because it's an unstable area. So will you just take this money and let Jack go?"

I rolled my eyes. "You talk like I'm the one who's in charge of all this. Let me call my supervisor over."

Lisa held up her hand to stop me. "Before you do, there are some matters I'd like to discuss with you."

"Such as?"

"You talk about me acting strangely ever since I met Jack. But I've also noticed you acting a little edgy lately, a little nervous and constantly looking over your shoulder. And then I found out you went off and threatened Jack. Now I _know _that's not the real Kenny. You're not the type of guy to dig his nose into other people's life. You seemed to have lost that air of restrained confidence, too. And the other day when I ran into you and Julie in the hall …"

"Oh when you slapped me?"

"Yes …" she admitted sheepishly, "I noticed Julie hit a nerve with you with one of her typical comments and I can't shake the feeling there's something going on that I don't know about. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I just want to make sure you're okay. I know … I know Julie can be a little manipulative sometimes."

"I appreciate the thought, Lisa, I really do. But I have to ask what your motivations are for acting like you care, especially after what I've done to you."

"I already said," she repeated, "I know this isn't the real you. And I want to find out what's going on, what's making you act this way. I liked the old Kenny. And if there's a chance I can get him back, I'll take it."

"You wanna know what's got me acting like ten times the asshole I normally am?" I asked. Lisa nodded slowly. "Ask your friend, Julie."

**XXXXX**

The police cruiser pulled up to an old bar, and one of Raccoon's finest, simply called J's Bar. The facility itself was a three story building right beside an apartment block, conveniently open late for any night owls who couldn't fall asleep and wanted a drink or two. No shit ever got stirred up around here, mainly because the bar was so great that even the cops frequented the place. In fact, most of the patrons here were police officers just getting off duty. Most cops stuff their faces with coffee and doughnuts. Raccoon City cops came to J's Bar.

Officer Ryman – I mean, Kevin (he told me to call him that) - stepped out of the car and took a deep breath of fresh air. "Man, it sure feels good to get out of that dreary police station," he said, still making an effort to sound cheerful. "Are you old enough to be here?"

"Legal age for alcohol is twenty-one," I reminded, "but I guess it's okay if I don't drink anything. Besides, wouldn't you know better than me?"

He shrugged. "I'm with you. Just don't get anything and you should be okay. They allow smoking in there, so you should feel right at home."

The entrance was a modest one consisting of a single red, swinging door with little square glass windows set into them. Beside the door, two panoramic windows gave a breath-taking view of across the street. Kevin pushed the door open, triggering a cute bell hanging just over the doorway, announcing the arrival of new patrons – us. We made our way immediately towards the bar, with me walking nervously behind Kevin. The scent of old wood, alcohol and cigarette smoke made its way into my lungs, a very unique aura specific to this place.

"Yo, bartender, how about some service?" Kevin asked jokingly as he planted himself in a seat by the counter. Right by the panoramic windows at the front of the store, two large, old, wooden barrels served as tabletops for patrons to enjoy their drinks. Now that was creative, instead of using the typical tables. I could see myself coming to this place once I got old enough.

"If you promise to clean up after yourself this time," the bartender called back, taking a chamois slung over his shoulder and tossing it at Kevin. He approached the police officer and took the rag back, signaling that joke time was over. "What can I get for you today?"

"Miller," Kevin replied.

"Anything for your buddy?"

"I'll have a Coke and Sprite," I replied, "fifty-fifty. No lemon, please."

"That sounds like a pretty exotic soda," the bartender noted, hosing the fountain pop into a short glass with more ice cubes than necessary. He plopped the drink in front of me and turned around, heading towards the back of the bar. "Your beer's coming right up, Kevin."

"Thanks, Will."

I pulled out a smoke and began puffing away at it, deciding that if I was getting volunteer hours for just lounging around in a bar that I probably wasn't even allowed to be in, I'd make it that much better by topping it off with a nicotine fix. While Kevin made friendly conversation with the bartender, whose name I just found out was Will, I looked around the room to take a good look at my surroundings. The shelves above our heads held bottles upon bottles of various alcoholic beverages, most of them from foreign countries with names that I couldn't pronounce, or couldn't read. The walls consisted of wood paneling up to about waist level, after which it converted to tacky wallpaper from the eighties. There was a TV directly across the large expanse of the room from the door we entered, tuned into the sports channel airing a game featuring the Raccoon City Sharks.

I took notice of a very pleasant looking waitress – blonde hair tied up into a ponytail, a blue and white vertically striped uniform and a dark gray apron. She walked across the space with grace while pulling off some kind of impressive balancing act with multiple empty beer bottles and glass cups stacked up on multiple trays. She caught me looking at her, and that's when I realized I'd been staring. The waitress smiled at me and carried on her merry way, a very pretty smile that seemed to light up the whole room.

"She's a babe, ain't she?" Kevin asked, tipping his chin towards the waitress who now had her back turned to us.

"Who is she?"

"Cindy Lennox, only the most popular waitress in this place. I swear, if I can just get the chance to know her better, I'll …"

"Kevin, look!" I said, pointing at the patron that Cindy had just been helping, and was slightly disappointed at myself for not noticing who it was sooner. "Officer Bernstein!" I called, waving at her. But she didn't respond. She was seated at one of the afore described barrels with her head in her hands, looking like maybe she'd drank a little too much.

"Officer Bernstein?" Kevin asked curiously. "Oh, you mean Amber! Yo, Amber!"

But then I realized why she wasn't responding. At first glance, it merely looked like she was rubbing her eyes from tiredness. But keeping my eyes on her as I waited for a response from her, I noticed her shoulders bobbing up and down slightly. The poor woman was crying. In front of her sat a few bottles of beer and I gulped in fear upon noticing them. There was no way she could've drank them all, was there?

"She looks like she could use a comforting shoulder," Kevin noted, all jokes and cheerfulness leaving his voice. "Come on, Kenny, let's go and see if she's okay." Kevin and I headed over, grabbing two stools on the way, making lots of noise. But if Officer Bernstein noticed, she didn't act like she did.

"Hey Amber," Kevin said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "you gonna be okay?"

She looked up at us with bloodshot eyes. Her face was streaked with tears, the dried edges had gotten crusty with dirt. The last time I saw her was on the helipad, seeing Officer Frost off, her boyfriend. It was as if she hadn't stopped crying, first worrying to death about whether he was going to be alright, and then finding out this morning that he'd been killed on duty. A string of mucus dropped from her nose, but she ignored even that. Her hair was a mess, sitting in a tangled mop hanging from the top of her head. "I … I couldn't stay at the precinct," she admitted. "Chief Iron's is gonna be pissed if he finds out. But I can't stay there."

"Officer Bernstein, I'm really sorry," I said. "Rita told me about what happened to the S.T.A.R.S." She immediately broke down as soon as those words left my mouth, earning me a disapproving glare from Kevin. She practically fell into him, her forehead crashing into his chest as she sobbed. Her face was now as red as her eyes, and a batch of fresh new tears flowed smoothly out from the corners of her eyes. Her mouth was frozen open in a grimace of excruciating emotional pain. I began to feel my own eyes water in sympathy for Officer Bernstein.

"He's dead," she choked out in between sobs. "Oh God, Joseph's dead …"


	6. Chapter 5: Zombies?

**Lizard90: **Hey, thanks for the support, man! And when are you going to continue your story!

**E-Z B: **Yeah, this story is meant to be at a slower pace, just to show the gradual decline of the city. But it'll pick up towards the end where the outbreak becomes more and more severe and more people start dying. We'll start seeing some zombie action very, VERY soon in the following chapters so keep your eyes peeled. Thanks for reading.

**HHoD**As mentioned in my email, I would like to continue using Amber. But out of respect for your upcoming projects, I'll try to keep her appearances brief, but important so you won't have too much to write around. I'm glad/sad that you're completed Project Lucifer! I want you to post the final chapters quickly but at the same time, I don't. But I must find out what happens! Once you install the final chapter, I'll rewrite the epilogue to "World of the Undead" so Kenny can have some closure with Jack and Lisa.

**XXXXX**

Amber was fast asleep in the back of the police cruiser in a drunken sleep, murmuring from within her dreams with incomprehensible moans. I turned around to see how she was doing, spotting a trail of drool coming from her corner of her mouth ... and from the passenger seat in the front, I could smell the alcohol permeating off her. Turns out all those bottles sitting in front of her at the bar were in fact consumed by her. Amber wasn't a large lady by any stretch of the word and she'd taken in more alcohol in one afternoon than I'd ever witness Chief Irons consume in a day.

"Poor girl," Kevin said.

"Poor Joseph, too," I added, and then shook my head in disbelief. The last few days I'd spent worrying about the S.T.A.R.S., which back then, seemed like a minor case of paranoia, was justified that afternoon. My instincts were right, but I still couldn't understand what could've happened to them. Trained professionals with years of experience behind them ... and in two days, almost the entire unit was wiped out? By some "cannibal killers"? And if not, then by what, or whom?

Then I remembered the newspaper article I saw before Kevin and I left the station - the one portraying what looked like a walking corpse that the founder of the photograph described as a potential cannibal killer - the one that looked like a zombie. Well let's think about this one here. If zombies in the movies were real, that meant they were slow - the S.T.A.R.S. were fast. Zombies were only dangerous in packs, when they surrounded you. They were inhumanly powerful and ate human meat. Human meat ...

I felt my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. If zombies really did exist, that would explain the human bite marks on the victims. But why would a zombie just bite a victim and walk away? Some of the victims were found in pieces, completely devoured. But then, those victims sported canine bite marks, which meant that some wild dog, probably a wolf or a rabid coyote.

Was there a link between these attacks on Raccoon's citizens? Did a group of downtown crazies observe the animal attacks and then decide to go cannibal themselves? Did that zombie in the photo have anything to do with this? It was certainly consistent with the human bitemarks, but how do the dogs bites fit in? What the hell was it that eliminated half the S.T.A.R.S. team in two days!

I racked my brains for an answer, but nothing seemed to make sense, except the possible existence of zombies, which was consistent the human bite marks found on the victims. The downfall of the S.T.A.R.S. and the dog victims didn't dance to that tune, however. The only thing all three aspects of this mystery - assuming they were all related to form a disfunctional family of mysteries - had in common was that Raccoon's citizens were dying left and right, being picked off slowly while the masses ignored the alarming increase in reports.

**XXXXX**

"Here we go, kiddo, Raccoon City Secondary School!" Kevin announced. "I'll be dropping Amber off at home after this, so don't worry about her, okay? I know you got a class this afternoon."

"Thanks for taking care of her, Kevin," I said.

He nodded and waved as I made my way out of the car. I turned around to grab my backpack from underneath the seat and was prompty assaulted by a huge hug. The attacker squealed with delight, and strangely enough I recognized that voice as only one name came to mind. "Wilberforce."

"Omigosh, I'm SO happy to see you!" she squealed. I looked at her with utter confusion set in my expression but she promptly ignored it. She then turned her attention to Kevin and squealed again, only louder this time. She turned back to me. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your supervising officer, Kenny?"

"Uh ... s - sorry," I said, still in a state of confusion. "Officer Ryman, this is Julie." I wanted to tack on 'Raccoon's most experienced highschool whore' or 'world-class-bitch' but bit my tongue before I could add anything. "Julie, this is my supervising officer, Kevin Ryman."

She bent down to face him in the car, subtley baring her cleavage in his face. "Well it's a PLEASURE to meet you, Officer Ryman," she sang. "Kenny must be giving you boys a hard time down at the station, huh?" 

"Nah," Kevin replied, making an effort to ignore Julie's come-ons. "He's a good worker. We really like him at the station."

"I know!" Julie fake laughed. "That's why he's my best friend!"

"Well it was nice meeting you, Julie, but I have to get back on patrol."

"Come back any time," she waved, stepping away from the cruiser before it sped off. Then she faced me, saying, "God, if I knew the police station had studly officers like him, I would've applied a long time ago! You're so lucky, Kenny."

"Aren't I," I answered with a passing interest. "You're a pretty good liar, though, I must admit. Best friends?"

She looked me straight in the eye, all excitement gone from her face. "You will be whatever I want you to be, if you don't want me telling my father about you."

"And how long are you planning on keeping this up, Julie? For the rest of the school year? For the rest of our time spent in RCSS? After high school?"

"As long as I need you," she replied simply. "And right now, I need you to get Lisa back for me. Though I must say, you're doing an awesome job right now - yelling at him when he's been arrested, locked up somewhere in a cold, dark cell." 

I felt a smile creep across my face and Julie mumbled on. "Yeah, it's great, right, Jules?"

"Oh absolutely!" she replied loudly. "I wish I could see the look on that downtown dog's face when he realized he was going to spend the night, and hopefully the rest of his life there and what I wouldn't give to ..."

"Oh, hey Lisa, what's going on!" I called out, past Julie's shoulder. Lisa Hartley had been sneaking up to Julie, hoping to give her the scare of her life with this mischevious grin pasted on her face, with a finger on her lips motioning for me to keep quiet. But as she got closer, as Julie's rant grew more and more audible to her, the grin faded only to be replaced by an angry frown by the time she was only a foot away.

The colour drained from Julie's face. Her eyes went wide. Her pupils shrunk and she spun around violently to face her official best friend. "Lisa, honey!"

Lisa slapped again and this time, I wasn't on the receiving end. "So it's YOU!" Lisa cried. "You're the one responsible for Jack being in the situation he is!"

"How dare you touch me!" Julie cried, holding her cheek. "I didn't do anything to Jack. You want your culprit? Where there he is, standing right in front of you!" Julie jabbed her finger in my general direction. If it wasn't for him, Jack wouldn't ..."

"Save it!" Lisa ordered. "You think I didn't just hear what you said? Not only are you ruining Jack's life, you're ruining my relationship with him, and you're threatening Kenny to do your dirty work for you? What the FUCK is wrong with you, Julie?"

"I ... I ..." Her eyes darted left and right for an explanation, but she ended up looking like a blabbering fool. I couldn't contain my grin, despite my best efforts. It felt so good to see Julie exactly what she deserved.

"I don't know what kind of dirt you have on Kenny," Lisa continued, this time in a low, reserved tone with an impressive amount of underlying negative energy. "But if your father does anything to Kenny, MY father will see to it that your family never works in this town - hell, in this country - ever again."

"You dare threaten me? I'll have you know that my father, Lawrence Wilberforce is a very accomplished lawyer and if you dare ..."

"And my father, Jonathan Hartley is a head scientist for the Umbrella Corporation, who practically runs this city, and has powerful influence over the State government."

"And I have a rich uncle!" I wanted to pipe up and say that while we bragged about our relatives but decided that this wasn't a fight I had a place in.

Julie huffed and puffed for something to say in retaliation to Lisa, but wasn't able to form any words other than the grunts of labored breathing. There was truth in Lisa's words. Umbrella practically had the city under its thumb. To avoid raising suspicions, the pharmaceutical company regularly paid visits to Chief Irons in that freakish room of stuffed animals whenever they wanted to start on a new project, just to make sure it was within the law. But with the corporation's influence over the city, they owned the law. Besides, I had my own suspicions about Chief Irons. I wouldn't be surprised if he _wa_s working for them as a part time job.

In the end, Julie retreated, spinning quickly on her heels and stormed off, leaving Lisa and I alone at the entrance of our school. She looked at me and bit her lower lip, brown eyes looking at me guiltily from behind bangs of dark blonde hair. "I was wrong about you," she admitted. "I should've known you would never do anything intentionally to hurt me or Jack." Well there was the time Justin and I threw food at him when he was walking along the street. But perhaps it'd be best if I left Lisa in the dark about that.

"Well, what can I say, Lisa?" I replied, leaning an elbow on her shoulder, "You're a bitch." They were mean words, but the good humored smile prevented her from getting the wrong idea.

"I was going to ask if you're alright," she said, "but for some reason, I think you're going to be okay."

"Thanks for backing me up, Lisa," I said, "if Julie ever leaks to her father about me …"

"I don't think you need to worry about that," she replied. "My parents can pull enough strings in their workplace to get Julie and her family booted from Raccoon and probably all of America."

"Can Umbrella really do that?"

Lisa shrugged. "I don't know. But if they can unofficially control this entire city, there's probably no limit to what they can do."

"Wow, your parents are really that high up with Umbrella, huh?"

Lisa shrugged. "I dunno, but as long as Julie thinks they are, I'm not complaining."

"Point taken."

"So … if you don't mind me asking …"

I held up and hand, signaling for her to stop. I knew what she was going to ask. And if she just saved my butt from Julie, the least I could do was tell her what was going on. "You got five minutes?"

"I'm all ears."

"You know I lived in Japan before coming here, right?"

"Yeah," she said, "born in Beijing, raised in Osaka, then …"

"Well after Osaka I relocated to Tokyo but the busy life didn't suit me either. So I saved up the money Mr. Masters – my uncle – gave me and applied for a VISA to the States. I was expecting an interview or at least a short meeting with an American representative, but I never got one. I got my VISA came almost right away. I found out later that Mr. Masters had bribed somebody in power to let me in without any hassle."

"I'm surprised there are people that high up who will still accept bribes."

"I didn't know what was going on at the time. All I cared about was that I had my student VISA so I could come over here."

"Why America, though?"

"I've always heard great things about this place. I just wanted to see what it was like. Work on my English."

"Well it sounds fine to me. So … that's the dirt Julie's got on you?"

"Well if her father finds out about me, they have the power to get boot me from the country."

"Oh, that's awful," Lisa said, putting her hand to an open mouth. "She was willing to ruin your future over me and Jack?"

"That's what it sounds like."

"Gosh, Kenny, I'm so sorry. If I had known, I would've never let Julie …"

"Well you know now, and I guess that's all that matters. Honestly though, Lisa," I took her hand into mine," thank you."

"No problem," she replied, patting the back of my palm. "Anything for a friend."

"That's always a relief to hear."

"But you might wanna let go of my hand now, hey, Kenny? It kinda hurts …"

"Sorry," I released her from what I only now realized was an iron grip. I guess I was pretty damned thankful to have Lisa on my side.

"You know, I've been a little worried about Jack lately."

"Oh, for goodness sake, Lisa!"

"Well there have been continuous attacks on citizens living in that area. You can't tell me not to be worried about Jack."

No, that wasn't why I was going to tell her to forget about Jack, but she'd brought up a good point with the attacks. I'd completely forgotten about them for a moment, despite having been in deep thought about them on our way over here. The look on my face must've worried Lisa for some reason.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked.

"You know about the frequency of the murders too, huh?"

"Yeah, they happen once every few weeks downtown. People go missing, or devoured corpses are found. Really creepy stuff – and it all happens in the outskirts of town."

"The attacks occur once every couple of days, Lisa, not weeks."

"What do you mean? How would you know that? I see cases popping up all over the place. And I'm in the police station like, everyday. The media just chooses to cover the cases involving single mothers and children. The problem is much worse than people are making it sound."

"Y…you can't be serious. So that means Jack's in more trouble than he thinks he is."

"Hold on, let's not jump to conclusions."

"If what you say is true, then people are dying on a regular basis downtown!"

"The S.T.A.R.S. have everything under control." Ouch. That was a blatant lie but a part of me believed very strongly that Jack would be okay. I can't explain it to this day.

"Can you promise me that?"

"They were just sent in last night, and the night before to take care of the situation. I don't know what they're findings are, but you've gotta trust in their abilities. You don't have to worry about Jack."

"The money's been processed and they're letting him go tonight," she explained, ignoring my protest. "And you're going to work tonight after school, and I was wondering if I could come with you. You know, pick him up, and all. They're not letting him return home by himself, in fear that he'll run out and cause some more trouble."

"Fine," I agreed reluctantly. "You can come with me. I honestly don't get what you see in him, but whatever floats your boat. Besides, I think I owe you one anyway. But I think we better head off."

"To where?" Lisa asked, cocking her head.

"History. We're five minutes late already and Bietelbaum's gonna eat us alive."

"SHIT!"

**XXXXX**

I thought Jack would be happy to see Lisa when I took her down into the basement, where the prisoner cells were. People were usually kept here unless the police couldn't find anything to charge them with. Otherwise, they'd be hauled off to court or to prison. There was nothing on Jack. The police suspected him of some minor misdemeanors but in the end, weren't able to find anything. Lisa's money was returned promptly and the both of them were sent on their way. I suppose there was some truth to Lisa's claims, about the police arresting the downtown kids for no reason, just because they were poor and looked out of place compared to Raccoon's uptown population who were usually straight edged, well dressed people. I wouldn't say I was particularly well dressed T-shirts and shorts, but compared to the rags the downtown kids wore, I probably looked like I just came out from some formal function.

Jack seized me by the collar and pushed me up against a wall. "You be causin' me lotsa trouble, amigo," he hissed. "Why'd you gotta go n' get me in trouble like this, man? What I ever do to you?"

I brought up my hands between his wrists and knocked them apart, releasing me from him strong grip. "Touch me again and I'll beat your ass into the concrete, you fuckin' dog."

"Stop it, both of you," Lisa ordered sternly. "Jack, Kenny brought me down here to take you home. He's the one who let me here to see you so give him a break, okay?"

"This ain't over," Jack said.

"Ready when you are!" I challenged, spreading my arms wide.

"That's enough, Kenny," Lisa interrupted, physically placing herself between me and Jack, her hands placed on both our chests in an effort to keep us from hitting each other. "Jack, you owe him some gratitude if anything. Now let's go. Thanks for bringing me here, Kenny."

"Yeah, no problem," I replied, dusting my hands off on my pants.

I led them out off the cell room and out of the basement, heading through the office and up into the main hall, and out the front doors. Lisa gazed around at the grandeur of the building, taking in its sheer size, her mouth frozen open in awe. She may have had a big house with the rich parents she had, but it was nothing compared to the size of the precinct. I had a similar reaction on my first day at work. I'd seen the building from the outside before, but its outer appearance modestly hid the ornate decorations within, leftover from the days when the building served as an art museum.

By the time we reached the main gates, the both of them paused to thank me again. "I be wrong about you Kenny," Jack admitted. "I know we got our differences, but let's try to leave each other alone now, comprende?" He held his hand out for a make up hand shake. I reluctantly accepted it, deciding that it was best if not for us, then at least for Lisa."

"I hope I don't see you in here again," I said. But I suppose if the police were as discriminatory as Lisa claimed, then neither me nor Jack would have control over that. I bid them farewell and headed back into the building towards my work station in the main hall, nearly running into Rita.

"I hope you enjoyed your day out," she said, "Kevin told me everything."

"Yeah, we ran into Amber at the bar and …"

Rita's eyes went wide. "He took you to J's Bar!"

"Uh … no …?"

"He just said you ran into Amber walking down the street while you were on patrol! Does he have any idea how much trouble he could be in if the chief finds out!"

"No, we ran into Amber on the street, yeah! And she was all like … drunk and … I mean no, she wasn't drunk on duty and … just forget about it." The more I talked, the wider Rita's eyes went and I decided that by continuing, I was just digging myself into a deeper hole. "Please don't tell the chief, Rita. Kevin's gonna kill me."

"I'm not a rat," Rita replied, "but I'm going to have a serious talk with him, bringing you into a bar when you're under age."

"No! He'll know I ratted for sure!"

She sighed outwardly. "Fine, just … go deliver Chief Iron's coffee to him. He's getting real cranky for some reason and I don't want him getting more upset if I can help it."

"Sure thing, Rita." The coffee pitcher and cream was conveniently located at the front desk on a neat looking tray, complete with a small bowl stacked high with sugar cubes. I took the tray in one hand and proceeded into the east wing, back into the office.

"Oh," Rita called after me, "he's in his private room upstairs. Deliver the coffee there."

"Thanks."

It was a longer trek to the second level. It would've been more convenient if they installed some kind of stairwell in the main hall that led to the second level balcony which overlooked the giant space, but that would've made things too easy for us, I suppose. I had to take the emergency staircase in the east wing to get there. It was an open air stairwell and I started to get worried that I'd spill the cream or something.

Upon arriving at Chief Iron's private office, I was about to knock on the door when some shouting from the inside made me pause. My curiosity got the better of me and I pressed my ear to the door, trying to listen in on what was going on. I could hear a lot of shouting and muffled grunts from voices I recognized, but couldn't put a face to. I could also here the chief's muffled replies, like he didn't quite care about the intense energy the others were delivering. I heard a couple f-words, fists banging on the table and more yelling – this time from a woman. It sounded like they were angry with the chief …

The door burst open suddenly, smashing me square in the nose. The force knocked me backwards and in my struggle to regain my balance, the tray of coffee, sugar and cream tipped from my hand and came crashing to the wooden floor. I fell backwards and hit the back of my head on the opposite wall. I saw stars for a moment as my vision blurred. Through it, I could make out the hazy form of Officer Valentine in her blue uniform and beret, looking worriedly at me.

"Oh my gosh, Kenny are you alright!" she asked, sounding quite alarmed. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were here …" She squatted down and took me by the chin, inspecting my face for any injuries. My nose burned but that was the extent of my injuries as far as I could tell.

"Here," Chris said, who I just noticed standing behind her. He took me by the wrist and yanked me to my feet. He wore a look of anger on his face, but I doubted it was me who cause it. They were definitely arguing about something in there and as much as I wanted to find out what it was about, I knew it wasn't my business."

"Is everything okay in there?" I asked.

"The fucking chief …" Chris began.

"Everything's fine," Officer Valentine interrupted. "You're okay? Gosh, if I'd known you were on your way in …"

"Don't worry about it, Officer Valentine," I said.

"Please, for the hundredth time, call me Jill, okay?" she requested sweetly. "I like you too much for you to call me anything else."

"I heard about the mission last night," I said, but immediately bit my lip. Was I even supposed to know? Were they expecting me to know? Oh no, I was starting to get pulled into the gossip grapevine – something I promised I would never get into at work. I had enough gossip to deal with at school.

"Kenny …" Chris began, but then stopped as if considering if what he had to say to me was really worth saying.

"Let the kid bring me my coffee!" Chief Irons shouted from within his private office.

"I'm sorry, Chief," I called back, "I accidentally spilled it. I'll go get you a fresh brew and get this mess cleaned up out here." He grunted in response but said nothing more. Chris glared back hatefully towards the door, which he'd just slammed behind him, as if to shut in the negative energy Chief Irons emitted.

As soon as the door had been closed, Chris looked at me and spoke sternly. "There are things we need to talk to you, and the whole precinct staff about. Come with us." The three of us headed for the S.T.A.R.S. office.

"The coffee machine's downstairs," I began to protest.

"Take the coffee from our office," Chris said. "You should really hear what we have to say."

"I don't know about this, Chris," Jill advised, but he ignored her.

"I think you should leave town."

"W…what?" I asked, completely stunned that he would say something like that to me.

"It's not safe in Raccoon," Officer Valentine … err … Jill agreed. "Pack your bags and leave as soon as you can."

"Why would I do that?" I asked. "What about my job here?"

"I wouldn't wish for anyone to work under that bastard," Chris said, jabbing his finger back at Iron's office door. Jill smacked him lightly on his shoulder, a strict reminder to watch his language when he was around me.

"And my school?"

"You can do that anywhere," Jill said. "But Raccoon in itself is in danger."

"How! Does this have anything to do with the cannibal murderers? What did you find out in on your mission?"

"Kenny …" Jill looked to Chris at support, who gave her a reassuring nod. "Do you believe in zombies?"


	7. Chapter 6: Unlikely Alliance

**July 27th, 1998**

**Raccoon** **City Secondary School**

The walrus looked at me with beady eyes and an ugly frown on its face. It twitched its whiskers as it looked at the note I held in front of its face, contemplating whether or not to believe what was written on it. Of course, when I say walrus, I don't mean one of those fat things with tusks you see at the zoo. I mean Mrs. Bietelbaum, our history teacher who, if you took of her floral muumuu, would closely resemble on of those animals. And yes, she had whiskers too.

She peered at me from over the rim of her thick-framed glasses. "And you're claiming the police wrote you this excuse?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied as polite a tone as I could muster. "Marvin Branagh and Rita Wilcox are my supervising officers. There's a funeral service going on today for the members that died during the mission to catch the cannibal killers and …"

Mrs. Bietelbaum's face fell. "How is severe is the situation?" she asked, covering the gaping hole her mouth produced with a wrinkly hand.

"They're not saying anything yet," I replied, "so I don't know either. But I trust the police have the situation under control."

"Well I'm sorry to hear this, Kenny," she said. "Of course, you may be excused from classes today. Usually I'd had have to go through the principal to approve this, so just don't say anything about me letting you go, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I turned on my heels and marched out of the classroom as fast as I could, glancing at my watch on my way. It was fifteen minutes until morning classes started at 8:30, and the funeral service began at nine, which gave me half an hour to reach the chapel, which was conveniently across the street from the precinct. Still, I wasn't sure if I had enough time get there on foot.

"Here, boy, fetch!" Justin cried. He was outside sitting at our spot on the front steps of the school, but was loud enough for me to hear from inside the building. I opened up the doors to spot him throwing a crumpled ball of paper towards the new boy from downtown, Jack Carpenter, the same boy Lisa had mysteriously fallen for, though she would never admit it.

The paper ball bounced off Jack's head and rolled away but he didn't even look to see who is tormentor was. He just kept on going as if nothing had happened. Perhaps it was his way of dealing with his social situation and I wondered why he'd even come to our school in the first place. Raccoon City Secondary School's population was made up of the children of uptown, where we lived normal lives in modest homes and practiced public courtesy. He didn't hold the city's downtown population in high regard and they knew that. Jack should've known that. But, here he was anyway.

Justin turned around as he heard me approach. As I stepped outside, I got a better view of the scenario as blonde and cocky Phil Barrett, star quarterback of our football team, sat on the stairs, mocking Jack as he walked by.

"Dude," Phil said, socking me lightly in the shoulder as I passed, "I didn't see you come in."

"Yo, Kenny," Justin called over his shoulder without looking at me, and then continued taunting Jack, even though the downtown scum was far away by now. "Go back home to your box! We don't need your kind here!"

"Did you arrive earlier as usual or is Justin's second hand pot smoke affecting me too?" Phil asked.

"No, I came earlier," I replied. "There's some stuff at work I have to take care of, and the Walrus let me skip school for the day."

Phil's eyes went wide. "The Walrus let you skip class? You're kidding me!"

I shrugged. "Besides, I've already made up for missing today. I did some extra reading over the weekend to …"

"You're such a fuckin' geek," Phil said, shaking his head. "You're lucky I like you."

"You like my fake ID so I can buy you booze."

Phil didn't say anything smart in response, but then again I never expected anything smart to come from his mouth. Instead, he just grinned and knuckled me lightly on the shoulder.

"Where you goin' today, dude?" Justin piped in, noticing my lack of backpack, and the fact that I was headed away from the school.

"Funeral," I explained. "A couple of people from work died on the latest mission and the whole precinct's pretty bummed out."

Justin shrugged. "Well it's not like they don't experience this all the time, right? I don't see why they need to throw a kanip-shit about this. They knew what they were getting into when they signed up to be police officers."

"Shut up, Justin," I said, surprised at myself feeling somewhat offended. "They're like one huge extended family unit down there. And they risk their lives everyday to protect knuckleheads like you so I'd show a little more appreciation if I were you."

"Whoa, dude, sorry." Though, his apology sounded like more of an act to appease me than heartfelt. I just shook my head and carried on my way. As I walked a way, I could hear him whispering something over to Phil but I didn't pay him any attention.

The weather was starting to cloud over. A cold breeze blew only briefly but managed to chill me, even spook me a little bit. I couldn't shake the feeling that the death of the S.T.A.R.S. members was only the beginning to something much worse.

**XXXXX**

**July 27th, 1998  
St. James Anglican Chapel**

As Officer Ryman had told me, the funeral service was held at a quaint little Anglican Church across the street from the precinct. The smell of incense lingered in the stuffy air, giving a kind of ancient aura to the relatively new building with its stained glass windows. There were twelve of them, each window depicting an image of the Stations of the Cross – key events during the crucifixion of Jesus.

I found my place towards the back half of the polished wooden pews. The seat creaked as it bore my weight. Bernice, the morning secretary had one of her co-workers covering her shift this morning so she could get a chance to attend the service. She sat beside me running a white handkerchief under her nose. I reached over and patted her on the shoulder.

"Good morning, Bernice," I said.

Only then did she notice me. "Oh, good morning, Kenny," she replied, trying to hide her sadness with visual effort. The dark bags under her usual bright blue eyes told me she had trouble sleeping last night. Her blonde curly hair was out of shape, flat on one side. Guess she was too troubled to do her hair that morning.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"It's okay, dear," she continued, taking my hand in hers. "You can cry. Nobody here but your Aunt Bernice."

Though, it wasn't me who needed comforting. I had only begun working at the station just a few short months ago, and I didn't have the ample chance to get to know most of the S.T.A.R.S. members personally. Some of them, yes, but not everyone. I was more of an admirer of theirs, maybe even a psychotic fan one might say, who'd find the excuse to go deliver doughnuts to their office at every opportunity that arose, just so I could get a glimpse of these legendary police officers.

Bernice, an older lady reaching her retirement had clearly contributed decades of hard work to the police force, would have seen each S.T.A.R.S. member grow from an inexperienced, hesitant rookie into the fine officers they had become right before their unfortunate deaths. Having no children of her own, she was like the token sweet older lady who spoiled everyone with her tendency to mother people, and everyone loved her for it. And she loved everyone right back. That was what made the death of the S.T.A.R.S. so hard for her to take.

She leaned over and noted quietly, "You look very handsome in your tuxedo."

The pew creaked again, this time on my left. I turned to see who it was, but the gloved hand patting me roughly on my head told me all I needed to know.

"Good morning, Officer Ryman."

"How're ya holding up there, Kenny? You get here okay?"

I shrugged. "It wasn't much of a walk."

"Good," he nodded, tipping his chin over at Amber who was sitting away in the front row. For someone who just had her fiancée recently killed, she seemed to be handling herself pretty well. Oh, and we all knew she was going to be married, but Joseph, her boyfriend, didn't get a chance to propose to her before he was killed on the mission. I was thankful I wasn't the one who'd have to break the news to her.

"Go say hi to Amber when you have the time," Officer Ryman said. "She'll appreciate it."

"Yeah, especially after what I said to her at the bar," I agreed, feeling a little guilty.

"Relax," he advised. "I know you weren't trying to rub it in that her boyfriend just died, but a little tact will come with age."

The service was pleasant overall, though I couldn't help but notice a few officers, especially the remaining S.T.A.R.S. members shift around uncomfortably in their seats while Officer Elliot Edwards delivered his speech about Captain Wesker.

As I made my way to the front doors of the precinct, I noticed Amber standing around with the remaining S.T.A.R.S. members. There were five of them there besides Amber. A team of eleven members brought down to a mere five. That was when the loss of life really sunk in. I told Kevin I'd try to say something to Amber to make up for my tactlessness at J's Bar yesterday.

I approached the group but nobody took immediate notice.

"Um, Amber," I said meekly, raising a finger in hopes of catching her attention.

"How did Joseph die?" I heard Amber ask. I took a step back in realization that this was a very personal conversation that was about to take place and decided that pleasantries could wait until later.

My movement caught Chris's attention and shot a sympathetic smile in my direction. Discreetly leaving the group, approached me and reached out to tousle my hair. I wasn't about to let him ruin my half-hour gel job this morning and took a quick step back, ducking my head away from his reach. Before I could even begin to seem rude my shrugging off his greeting, I took his outreached hand into mine and we shared a firm handshake. I'm proud of my little tactic that I formulated in my head though this was the first time I've utilized it. I call it "the Roundabout". If I was going to have him start treating me like the teenager I was and not some child, I was clearly the one to be proactive about it.

"Good reflexes there," he said, chuckling. Chris then placed a hand on my shoulder and turned me around. "I appreciate you coming to talk to Amber, but this is S.T.A.R.S. business right now, kiddo," he whispered. He sent my on my way into the precinct with a gentle pat on the back.

**XXXXX **

**July 27th, 1998  
Raccoon City Police Station **

Well since I had the entire day off from school, I decided to stay behind at the station today and get some work done – not to mention the extra hours. Rita had assigned me a pile of paperwork and filing to do last week but I hadn't gotten much done, and now I had ample time to. I'd only begun organizing the pile into smaller, easier to handle portions when Marvin approached.

"Kenny, can you take these up to the S.T.A.R.S. office for me?" He plopped a yellow box of fresh doughnuts in front of me, on top of the papers as he tore into a glazed one already in his hand. Marvin didn't wait for a response from me and continued on his merry way.

I shrugged to myself and picked the box up. Marvin was kind enough to provide the doughnuts probably in an attempt to save me a trip to the West Office, but there was no coffee and I was going to have to head there anyway. I sighed and rose from my seat. I guess I needed a little walk anyway. Oh, and since I was up, I might as well have taken a cigarette break too.

I had to dodge the bustling officers on my way down to the coffee brewers. There were two of these things here, each one industrial sized and brewing decaf and dark coffees. Mild was too weak for anyone who worked here, apparently. You'd be surprised at how much of these jugs the officers can go through in one day. I emptied all of the contents of both brewers into their respective jugs placed on an adjacent table. I was met with groans of half-serious protest from the officers who noticed.

"We just brewed that pot, Kenny! Can't you take the next batch?"

"Aw, man! He's pouring it all!"

"Sorry," I apologized, shrugging at them, "but it's for the S.T.A.R.S. I'll put another batch on right away."

"My doughnut's getting pretty dry and pasty in my mouth without any coffee!"

I couldn't help but smile to myself at the officers' good hearted jokes as I made my way out the rear exit of the West Office, balancing two coffee jugs and a box of doughnuts on a tray. I had a little help from some officers who held the doors open for me. This balancing act took some refining. I spilled coffee all over the squeaky clean floors during my first week and Gus the janitor had to be called up from his scrubbing down in the kennels a few times with the extra tasks. But I was a pro by now and hopefully, I'd see less of Gus.

The West Office led to the evidence room, and spilled out into a hallway that led to the photo lab and the upper level. The S.T.A.R.S. Office was upstairs and did I ever hate those stairs. I'd been running this route since I started working here with doughnut boxes and coffee pitchers in my hands and yet I never got used to them. I hesitantly rested a foot on the bottom stairs and climbed the flight carefully, making sure not to throw the jugs off balance.

This delicate act took a little under ten minutes and by the time I had reached the top, I could feel my face flushed with the effort. But at least the doughnuts and coffee were still in one piece and not all over the floor. One less task for Gus that day, thank goodness.

Past the creepy statue with the red gem in its hand, through the door at the opposite end of the hall, and I was in the S.T.A.R.S. corridor. Their office would be just around the next corner. I could hear the members talking in hushed voices heading inside for some privacy. Fearing that they'd close the door on me before I got close enough to see me (you try knocking with a heavy tray of doughnuts and coffee in your hands), I dashed towards them. I had reached the S.T.A.R.S. door with their very own emblem etched just above the keyhole, just in time to have it slammed in my face.

I let out an exasperated sigh and looked around to find something to rest the tray on so I could free up my hands to knock. There was the dirty floor, and the window ledge just a few long steps behind me but that took too much effort. There was nothing suitable in reach so instead, I pulled my head back, squeezed my eyes shut and threw my skull forward, knocking three times on the door with my forehead.

It didn't take long for the door to open at all, as if someone had been standing right behind it.

"Go away," Chris said rather abruptly. "This is …" His aggression caught me by surprise at first, because he's never spoken to me in that kind of manner before. But then he lowered his gaze by about half a foot and noticed me standing there, my limbs aching with the weight of their treats.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting," I said with as apologetic a tone I could muster. "I brought you guys these." I held up the tray and coffee jugs like an offering and managed a weak, embarrassed smile.

Chris's expression softened. "Hey, Sport," he said, calling me by one of his annoying nicknames. He was still dressed in his tuxedo from the service earlier this morning. Come to think of it, I was still in mine too. I made a mental note to remember to return the expensive tux to Amber, who told me it was an old tuxedo belonging to her brother who had since outgrown it. The others present at the service had gone home to change. Then I spotted Chris reaching out his hand … and it was going straight for my half-hour gel job. I tried to maneuver around it but I didn't have the time to avoid Chris's devastating hair-do killer. He tousled my hair, crushing my head into my shoulders and knuckled my cheek lightly in a playful manner.

"Don't do that, Chris," I could hear Officer Valentine say from inside the office. The door opened further, revealing her standing behind Chris. I smiled at her and made my way into the office, towards Jill's desk. "Thanks, Kenny. Could you put those on my desk for me, please? We'll sort them out in a minute."

Did she even have to ask me? Did they honestly think after working here for so long, I'd still have to be told what to do? I was already halfway across the room by the time she asked, and it bothered me that they felt like they even had to ask. But I was bothered for a mere moment, deciding that all was well if they weren't yelling at me. Three months here and there'd been none of that. So far so good.

"Is there anything else, Kenny?" Chris asked. It sounded like he was expecting something. "Mail or anything like that?"

My chin rested on the top of the doughnut boxes to keep in a neat vertical stack, and was unable to reply verbally to Chris. So I just shook my head in response. His face fell a little but only for a brief moment. "Oh. Okay."

Chris scratched at the back of his head nervously as he figured out how to kick me out of the room politely. I had figured I was walking into something important the way they'd closed the door to the office so quickly, to the way Chris was ready to give the intruder a piece of his mind for even daring to knock on the door.

"Uh, Kenny," he said, "we've got some important business to discuss." I opened my mouth to comply but was immediately cut off as Chris continued.

"You know … S.T.A.R.S. business. If you could let everyone know that we don't want to be disturbed for a while..."

Chris rambled on for a few long seconds while letting my mind wander a little. I was busy wondering what Amber was doing there in the room if this was a S.T.A.R.S. meeting. Was she just dropping by like me, or was she planning on sticking around for this "S.T.A.R.S." meeting? Or was Chris lying to me, just to get me out of the way? Well if he wanted out of the way a simple request would've been fine, not some sorry-ass explanation he thought up of on the spot which …

"…can you do that for us? We'd be really grateful." Chris had finished talking and I hadn't heard a word he said. I just nodded blankly back at him.

"Great, you run along now, okay, Champ?" I winced in preparation to receive another helping of hair tousling but Chris didn't do it this time. Not there was much hairstyle left for him to rough up. Instead, he placed a hand lightly on my shoulder blade and began ushering me gently to the door.

"Okay," I replied, then turned my attention to Amber. Time to try and dig a little. Something fishy was going on in here amongst the S.T.A.R.S. members and I wondered if Amber was a part of it. "Officer Bernstein, would you like to come with me and get some coffee?"

"No thanks, Kenny," she replied without missing a beat. "I might be here a little while. I've got some stuff to take care of before I get back to work. Yeah, Jill and the others are going to help me go through Joseph's belongings. I think there's some stuff in there that his family might want to have returned. I figured I might as well get it over with sooner rather than later, so I don't have to disturb the others while they're working."

Well she had a point. And I suppose it wasn't a sin to want a little privacy with your closest friends when your S.T.A.R.S. boyfriend just died. She would probably want to inquire about the nature of his death, and to the kind of experience the whole team went through on that fateful night. To be honest, I wanted to know too, so I could at least confirm with myself which rumors about the S.T.A.R.S. floating around the precinct were true and which could be dismissed.

I looked at Chris and Jill, silently pleading with them to let me sit in on the meeting too, even though yes, I know it was none of my concern. Chris was all business now and had lost all joking pretenses in his expression. He made eye contact with me gave a firm nod in the direction of the door. It would've been a bad idea to push any further so I complied.

I had taken only one step out of the office when the door closed shut behind me, followed by a quick click of the lock. I could hear scraping along the floor coming from inside the office, then the door handle rattled. They were putting a chair under the knob. They really wanted me out of there badly! What was it they were discussing that was so secretive? What did happened to them on their rescue mission? How did half the S.T.A.R.S. team get wiped out and why were all the officers in the precinct accusing the S.T.A.R.S. of being on drugs?

What the hell was it Chris asked me to do again?

**XXXXX **

**July 27th, 1998  
Uptown Raccoon City **

I didn't get out of the precinct until around 5:00 pm that afternoon. It had been a hellish day of running around, filing reports, and catering to the needs of the police officers among other random tasks. My days usually went like that, but of course today was an especially depressing day given everyone's reflections on the most recently failed mission, the funeral service this morning serving as a grim reminder.

I took the regular route home, more instinctively than consciously. I was finally beginning to settle into the hectic lifestyle of school and volunteering almost full time at the police station. I live in newly built but small and cozy apartment; just one of many in the newly developed areas of Uptown. Downtown wasn't too far away, but anyone with half a brain knew to stay well away from the druggies, drunkards, skater punks and just generally people who were up to no good.

And that was what confused me that afternoon when I spotted Jack Carpenter. He was the only kid from downtown to attend Raccoon City Secondary School while most of the kids from that area went to St. Michael's Catholic High.

Anyway, Jack appeared to have been on his way home; as he now lay bleeding on the pavement just a few meters ahead of me. I didn't recognize his fallen form at first, but there was no mistaking that it was a person in need of help. There were a couple of pedestrians on the opposite side of the street and most probably mistook him for a drunkard. Technically we were in Uptown, but given our proximity to the lesser end of town, it wasn't surprising that a few bums would linger over in their intoxicated state.

As soon as I'd spotted the blood on the pavement, I made a run towards the body, hoping that it was still alive. As I got closer, I recognized it as being Jack Carpenter immediately. Without taking my bag off my shoulders, I bent down to examine him, unsure of exactly what to do.

Then he let out a sob of agony. Given his situation, I guessed it was more out of pain than emotional agony. Oh, right, and of course, he was alive. Thank goodness for that.

"Jack, are you okay?" I asked, nudging him with the toe of my shoe. I was afraid of being seen with the likes of him but when someone needs help they deserve some attention, right? His eyes fluttered open and looked at me and widened immediately with fear.

"No more, man," he murmured, and then coughed up some clear spittle. "No more, please."

"It's me, Kenny," I said. "Whoever did this is gone. Which brings me to my next question." Then I realized, as much as I wanted to know who was responsible for beating the stuffing out of him, it might be a good idea to call an ambulance.

Jack seemed to calm down a little when he realized it was me talking. He took a breath and talked. "It was your buddies," he explained, "Phil, and his crony Jamie."

Phil! What in the world would Phil be doing coming all the way down here just to beat somebody up? Whatever, the answer to that would have to wait.

"I'm gonna call 911."

"No!" Jack protested strongly. He then proceeded to pick himself up off the ground with some physical effort. I crouched again and helped him to his feet, slinging one of his arms over my shoulder.

"You're crazy," I insisted, "The hospital folks can make you better pretty quick."

"No," he continued, "cause then they'll call my Auntie and she'll go all loco and I just dun wanna put her in that kinda situation. I appreciate your help, Kenny, but I know how much you an' your buddies hate me, so jus' do yourself a favor and get outta here, okay? I be okay on my own."

"Oh fuck off. I'm not leaving someone to die and have that on my conscience for the rest of my life, even if it _is _yours."

"Nothing's broken. They just knocked me out but that's it, I swear."

"And they used your backpack to do it, from the looks of it," I noted, lifting it by the strap just a few feet away.

"Man, I knew those history books were heavy but I never thought they could be used as a weapon," Jack said, rubbing his head.

"It made a wound. You're bleeding all over the street." I picked his bag up and shouldered it along with mine. "Come on."

Jack looked puzzled. "Where do you want me to go?"

I let out a frustrated sigh. I didn't want to have to admit it verbally but … "You don't want your Aunt Rosa to turn the city upside down looking for Jamie and Phil, right. That'll get you in more trouble with the guys at school, if anything. And she won't do anything if she doesn't see you in this state."

Jack nodded, guessing at the point I was trying to make.

"You're coming over to get that dried up blood off your face. You could use a new shirt, not this bloody and torn one." I gestured to the dirty piece of orange fabric hanging off his torso in shreds.

He was speechless. "I appreciate this, Kenny," he said, unsure of how to accurately voice his gratitude. "But why you doin' this?"

"For Lisa," I replied simply, and continued walking home as Jack fell in step behind me.

**XXXXX **

**July 27th, 1998  
Kenny's Apartment **

We walked in through the front door and the first thing I did was slide mine and Jack's backpacks off my shoulders and deposited them right by the door. Jack walked in after me, looking curiously around my messy apartment. The kitchen was to the immediate right, the sink piled high with piles of crusted plates and utensils. The dishwasher was open and its empty tray had been slid out. Ahead lay the living room with a small dining table with a two person maximum capacity tucked away in the far corner. The living space consisted of a second-hand armchair and a thirteen inch television set.

Aside from the kitchen, every other inch of floor space was covered by an article of clothing – dirty socks, T-shirts, pants, jackets … and there was a leotard at the foot of the sofa and to this day I still don't know how it got there because I would never be caught dead in one.

"It's not mine," I said quickly, noticing that it had caught Jack's attention.

"I din' say nuttin' man," he replied with a faint smirk crossing his lips.

"I didn't say you can come in and get comfortable," I reminded him angrily. "Get yourself washed off and get the hell out." He nodded obediently and went straight for the washroom. Jack needed no directions as it was at the end of the corridor to the right, its door open to reveal a sink.

I shook my head in disbelief at the entire situation and headed for my bag to get my books. No time to slack off today, especially since I was so far ahead in school and if I wanted to keep it that way to use my extra hours for the precinct.

Oh, which reminded me – I still had Amber's brother's tuxedo and I didn't get the chance to return it to her today after the funeral. I took a detour over to the phone resting on the kitchen wall and dialed Amber's number, waiting patiently for her to pick up. I waited for a few rings and wondered why she hadn't picked up already. Maybe she was still at work. Or maybe she took the day off to grieve. But then she'd be home. Oh right, she wouldn't pick up the phone if she was busy grieving …

"Hello?" She sounded terrible. Her voice was not unlike a frog's, deep, croaky and trembling.

"Officer Bernstein," I said, startled by her composure, though I really shouldn't have been. "I…it's Kenny."

"Oh," she sniffed. I could hear her struggling to get herself under control. "Hello, Kenny."

"I … I th-think I might be calling at a bad time," I stammered, trying to make up for my stupidity for calling. "If you don't want to talk to me – I mean if you don't want to talk right now – or, I mean, if you can't …"

"It's just nice to talk to someone," she said, cutting me off. "I'd have just let the phone ring off the hook if I didn't want to talk. What do you have for me today, Kenny?"

"I just wanted to let you know I haven't forgotten about the tuxedo rental. I hope late fees don't apply." I threw in the joke to lighten the mood and I think it worked a little bit.

"Don't worry about it," Amber replied. "Jason hasn't worn it since he was twelve. He got too big for it and he didn't bother taking it with him when he moved out. He chose to take those fowl T-shirts with him instead. So the tux was left to rot in my closet. He won't be using it anymore, and frankly I don't I'll be either. Why don't you keep it?"

"I couldn't, Officer Bernstein. It's a really nice tux." And I didn't feel comfortable with the fact that I could fit into something meant for a twelve year old either.

"Please, just do. It'll do you more good than it'll do for me."

"Okay," I conceded. "If you could say thanks to Mr. Bernstein for me …"

"And I'll tell Jason you called him Mr. Bernstein too. He'll just _love_ that," Amber chuckled.

"I didn't mean any offense …"

"Ah, bless you. Listen, I gotta get some rest. I'll see you at work soon, okay?"

Amber didn't wait for me to respond before she hung up.


	8. Chapter 7: Too Close to Home

**Kouryuu**My opinions regarding the Resident Evil games directly contradict yours. RE4 game play was acceptable, but it completely ruined the style the RE series had established for itself. And removing the zombies? That took a lot away as well. If they wanted to add a new scare factor, they could have revamped the zombies, but not take them away completely. I like RE4, but I love the rest of the RE series – except the Survivor series.

**E-Z B: **Wow, was I that successful in making Julie a bitch! I just took what HHoD presented in Project Lucifer and exaggerated it to mammoth proportions. I'd love to hear the song in real life ;) Or do I want to hear you sing? j/k

**Astral Slayer Sakura: **I'm having some trouble deciphering what you're trying to say …

**Author's Notes: **Phil Barrett and Sarah-Lee Robertson are property of Hyperactive Hamster of Doom, supporting characters from her story "Project Lucifer." Thank you, HHoD, for letting me rip more characters from your story. But I promise you, they will be written in with the best of my ability, and will contribute well to this story.

**XXXX**

**August 1st, 1998**

The last week went by pretty uneventfully. The summer school semester went by as usual with Julie kissing Lisa's ass, while her groupie hung around by her side. Lisa continued to see Jack despite my subtle protests which she got, but ignored. Justin and I continued to hang out at the front of the school, him with his pot, me with my coffee and cigarettes. The eventless week had a false air of peace and serenity about it. Outside the social confines of RCSS and the rest of uptown Raccoon, trouble was brewing. And the only reason I knew about it was what was going on at the precinct.

Before, I'd be filing cases of corpses being found ripped to shreds, or people being bitten by "drunkards and bums," who coincidentally would end up dead a few days later, with claims of an insatiable hunger for meat in their final days. The reality started hitting close to home today, and I was starting to get worried about our cozy little mountain community.

"You're not looking too good today, Kenny," Rita said, eyeing me worriedly as she passed by, a stack of papers held to her body with one hand, a white mug of piping hot coffee in the other. "Are you feeling alright? I hope you're didn't catch that strange flu that's been going around this season. It's almost winter time, you know." The strange flu she mentioned was the same one that had been killing the aforementioned victims. The hospital and affiliated laboratories, not even Umbrella's own scientific branch has been able to identify the sickness. As a result, no cure has been found.

"I just didn't get enough sleep last night," I replied, "last minute homework, you know."

She gave me a disapproving frown. "You know not to leave the important stuff to the last minute. If you're spending too much time working here, you can always request a few days off. Just let me know, okay?"

"I will, Rita, thanks."

"Meanwhile, maybe you should stop smoking and drink lots of orange juice. The vitamin C helps your body fend off any sickness. I bet it'll be helpful, especially with this disease floating around in our air."

Somehow, I doubted the vitamin C would help. It felt like a plague of sorts. There was no cure, it killed people, and made their final days incredibly torturous. Maybe that's why victims have been reported to bite their caretakers?

Rita interrupted my thoughts. "Do you think that …," but then she changed her mind, "never mind, forget about it."

"Do I think what?" I asked, pursuing the question.

"That the S.T.A.R.S. may be telling the truth?" she asked. "I mean, maybe not the whole truth. They had to have been exposed to the blue herb pollen up in the mountains for too long. But do you think something weird might have sparked their tall tales?"

"They said a pack of wild Dobermans tore Officer Frost limb from limb," I recounted, "and there were zombies and all sorts of twisted monsters. I guess when you're high on blue herb pollen, stuck in the forest in the middle of the night, you're bound to see strange things in the shadows of the trees in the moonlight."

"Yeah," Rita agreed, "but what can explain the deaths of almost the entire S.T.A.R.S. team in two nights?"

"You mean besides zombies, monsters, giant spiders and eight-foot tall men with claws for arms?" I asked. "I don't know, but I'm sure there's something deadly in those mountains."

"Oh gosh," Rita said, chuckling, "I knew Chris had an imagination, but I never thought I'd hear some ridiculous descriptions from Jill's mouth. But … I don't think they deserve this, though. They requested an investigation of the remains of the Spencer Estate in the mountains."

"Is that where they went?"

Rita nodded. "Yeah, but the Chief isn't granting their requests. I mean, he's a jerk but he's a smart jerk. Why would we risk putting our officers at risk, in the middle of a dangerous forest? Chris, Jill, Barry and Rebecca's statements speak for themselves. And it's not worth going in to check out rubble based on their words alone. I mean, zombies? Come on!"

"Yeah," I agreed. There was no way I was about to tell Rita I could believe the zombie story too, based on the newspaper reports I'd filed the other day. Nobody spent as much time with the reports and cases as I did filing them. Therefore, nobody really knew about them. By telling Rita, the gossip around the station about my mental well being may spread, just like Chris and the others. The surviving S.T.A.R.S. officers still commanded respect, but behind their backs, their fellow officers were convinced that the blue herb pollen must have done some permanent damage, causing them to completely lose it. Something told me that the end of the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. unit wasn't far behind.

"Help me!" a woman cried from the door to the main hall, catching everyone's attention. All heads present turned to look in her direction. Somebody gasped. A man filing a report with Marvin, a veteran officer, fell to the floor. He'd fainted. I looked at this woman who had just come in, her voice shrill and nearly in hysterics. She was an older woman, dressed in a floral muumuu with gray, curly hair. She was drenched in blood. Her entire face was covered, and there were large splotches of dried blood on her muumuu, looking as if someone had taken a sack of tomatoes and chucked it at her, spilling its contents all over her face and clothing – only the juice was a deep, scarlet red.

"Madam!" Rita cried, rushing to her aid. "You need to get yourself to a hospital." She took the hysterical old woman by a hand and led her deeper inside.

"They killed my husband!" the woman wailed. "Right in front of my eyes, oh Lord!"

"Are you hurt?" Rita asked.

"He's dead, they killed him!" she continued, ignoring Rita's questions. The old woman raised her hands skyward and looked up, as if imploring God himself to give her some kind of relief. But none came. Rita was starting to look nervous, her eyes glancing around the room for a fellow officer to come help calm the old lady down, to get a story out of her.

"Ma'am, you have to calm down," Marvin said, coming to Rita's aid. He spoke gently to her, but his voice still commanded authority. "How much blood have you lost?"

The lady shook her head. "It's not mine," she wept. "It's Colin's. My husband's. You have to do something about those monsters. They killed him!"

"We're going to need a description of the perpetrators," Rita said. "Please, come with us. We'll get you cleaned up and send an ambulance for your husband."

"There's no point, he's dead!" she continued crying, starting to get worked up again even after Marvin successfully calmed her down for that brief moment.

"We don't know for sure yet, ma'am. He could still be alive, but in critical condition …"

"They ATE him!" the woman cried, her voice echoing against the stone cold walls and flooring off the main hall. "Those drunken, smelly bums ate him! Squatted down and started chomping on his arms, his shoulders while he screamed. I tried to get them away, but Colin told me to run. The last thing I saw was his head, oh Lord, rolling from his shoulders …" She lost her composure at that point, turning into a sobbing wreck. Rita made a face, looked at Marvin who swallowed a wad of dry spit. The officers were disturbed. They turned back to face me and only then did I realize I'd been staring, listening in on this woman's story while I was supposed to be filing.

"Were did this happen?" Marvin continued asking questions.

"Three blocks south of here!" was the reply.

Marvin snatched a walkie-talkie from his belt and spoke into it. "I need at least three units at the corner of Robson and Denman," he ordered. "We've just had attack on civilians. The victim could still be there. Perpetrators are described as ..." Marvin paused, "… cannibal."

"Another cannibal killer case?" I asked, but it was a stupid question. Of course it was.

Rita looked worried as she nodded to my question. "But this is the first time it's happened so close to the precinct before."

"This is the first time we've had an incident uptown," Marvin added. He turned back to the lady. "If you could please come with us, ma'am, we'll get you fixed up and you can tell us your story."

As they led the weeping woman away, I could feel the blood in my veins run cold. What my supervising officers told me greatly disturbed me. Sure, reports about the cannibal killers have been recorded before, but they were always by officers on patrol. Nobody, in the time I've spent working with the precinct when these cases first started popping up, has ever come in person and reported it. It was always easier to run to a phone to call 911. But the fact the police station was closer to the old woman that a payphone …

**XXXXX**

"A cannibal murder happened today, three blocks from my work," I reported to Justin later that day, "just off Robson."

Justin's face went bleach white. "A…are you serious, dude?" he asked, the marijuana doobie falling from his gaping mouth. He was concerned, and rightly so. Justin lived around that neighborhood. And the fact that this was the very first cannibal murder in uptown Raccoon City didn't make things any easier.

I nodded. "There was one survivor. She was an old lady, saying something about her husband being eaten. In front of her eyes."

"That's fuckin' gross, man," Justin said, his face twisting into a mask of disgust.

"I saw her," I continued, "covered head to toe in her husband's blood." I was surprised at how casually I was delivering those words. Inside, the memories sickened me, turning my stomach. But I was retelling the story to Justin like I would after a busy day at work. But it was so much more than that …

"Are you feeling okay?" Justin asked.

"Yeah," I said, keeping up that casual tone, void of all concern in the world. "Why do you ask?"

"Cause you're shaking like a fuckin' leaf blowing in the wind," he replied.

"Oh." I folded my arms across my chest, grabbing my upper arms in an effort to keep myself still. Then I noticed just how cold my hands were. I glanced at them, noticing they'd gone a little purple. Was I really that scared? I didn't feel that way, at least, I didn't think so at the time.

"What's got you guys so worked up?" somebody called from a few feet away. Justin and I looked into the direction of the voice, spotting a large, muscular figure – Phil Barrett, quarterback for the RCSS football team. He was the most popular guy in our grade with bleach blonde hair, cut short so that it wouldn't get in his eyes, sharp blue eyes a prominent chin. With his kind of stature standing a full head over me, an athletic build and a deep voice, there wasn't a single girl in our grade that didn't want him in their pants. But any attempt made by a girl was promptly shut down by Julie Wilberforce, who would see to it that if any other girl besides her were to so much as touch Phil Barrett, the rest of their year at school would be a living, social hell. Phil strutted up to Justin and I, tossing his trademark football with an arm, the other hand holding the strap of his backpack over his shoulder.

"Just talkin'," Justin replied, "about those freaky murders that have been happening."

Phil scoffed. "If any of those murderers even thinks about coming near me, I'll fuck 'em up real good. Too bad you got kicked off the football team, man." He elbowed Justin. "You lost your weight room privileges. Otherwise, you could really beef up and nobody would fuck with you. Hey, you alright, Kenny? You look like you just saw a ghost."

"I'll be fine, Phil, thanks," I replied.

"Good," he said, nodding, "cause I don't wanna see Bietelbaum catch you snoring in class again, haha!"

"Nah," Justin said, "I think she's more preoccupied with the downtown dog lately."

"Oh yeah," Phil nodded, "that pretty boy, what's his name … Jack. Speaking of those downtown freaks, there's gonna be a huge fight after school tonight, man. You guys should totally come and check it out."

"Who are you guys fighting this time?" I asked.

"A bunch of punks from St. Michael's Catholic High," Phil said, frowning at the mention of the name. "One of their dudes picked a fight with Jamie. So we're going after school today to back him up. They call themselves 'the Street Rats.' They're making a big mistake messing with us. Bet their parents won't have enough money to cover their hospital bill by the time we're done with them. Don't tell your co-workers, okay, Kenny?"

"They're going to find out anyway. Someone's bound to call the cops."

"Yeah, but at least they won't know beforehand. Thanks buddy," he patted me hard on the shoulder. "I owe you one."

"But I didn't say …"

"Oh, there was something else I wanted to talk to you guys about," Phil interrupted. "Julie's having another party at Lisa's house this weekend. I want you two to come."

"What's the occasion?" Justin asked, curious.

"To celebrate her and Lisa becoming best friends again, or some shit like that, I dunno. Do we even need a reason?"

"I didn't even know they had a fight," Justin said, scratching his head.

"Oh yeah man, I heard the bitch-fest like, last month. And we all have little Kenny to thank for that! Way to go, man, getting two girls fighting over you! I noticed you were getting a little chummy with Julie there. And I always wanted to ask you why."

"It's a long story," I replied. "Let's say I had no choice."

"Yeah, well good job getting a piece of ass like that. She's hot, but I don't think you should go anywhere near her. All the STD's in her pussy are waging civil war with each other." Justin and I cracked a laugh. "But yeah, totally come to Lisa's place this weekend! And Kenny …" he handed me a hundred dollar bill, "you know the drill."

"Smirnoff vodka, a pack of Marlboro lights, regular and Red's, Miller light for Jamie, four pack of Mike's, bottle of white wine for your girlfriend," I droned, having repeated the order many times in the past.

"You forgot something."

"Oh yeah, and margarita mix."

"You're the best, Kenny, putting that fake ID to good use! Remember, if you need anything, I'm your man. I gotta get to class, guys. Catch you boys later."

We watched Phil head off into the school, Justin and I shaking our heads. "He's a good guy," Justin said, "just a few cigarettes short of a pack."

"You gonna check out the fight later?" I asked, stuffing Phil's money in to my pocket.

He shrugged. "Probably, if I got nothing better to do. You?"

I shook my head. "I have to work tonight. But let me know how it went."

"Man, I'm pretty excited about the party this weekend," Justin announced happily. "Just the thing we need to help us forget this school bullshit, and those murders."

"Oh boys!" We didn't need to see who it was to know. We could hear her coming from a mile away, but I hoped and prayed she didn't come talk to us. Alas, my prayers were to go unanswered as the steady clicking of high heels got louder the closer she got. The smell of perfume permeated the air around them, even managing to mask the aura of pot from around Justin. It was a train of four girls who went, in order, by Leonie Brown, Sarah-Lee Robertson, Mary Perceval and Luanne Wade. They parted right down the middle to reveal our beloved Julie Wilberforce who walked up to me.

"It's so nice running into you gentlemen," Julie said in a high pitched, impossibly happy voice. "Kenny, I hope there aren't any bitter feelings between us, right?"

"I don't want to waste my time, Julie."

"Good." She opened her pink purse, hanging from her elbow and reached a porcelain hand into it, digging around for something. "I hope you heard about the party I'm organizing at Lisa's this weekend."

"Phil just told us," I replied.

Julie's head snapped up and she looked at me. "Is he coming?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh this is the best day of my LIFE!" she squealed, clasping her hands together. She re-reached into her bag and pulled out a fifty dollar bill. "Phil Barrett is coming to the party! This time, I'll get him for sure!"

Justin just laughed out loud, earning him a hard glare from Julie.

"Shut UP, Justin!" she screeched. "At least I don't plan to use him like you did to me!"

"Whatever, Jules," he replied, "I can't wait to see you work your magic on him – and his girlfriend."

"I'll rip that bitch's eyes out myself," she scoffed. Julie then turned her attention to me. "Would you be a sweetheart?" she asked. "I don't have the time … nor the fake ID to get our booze for the evening."

"Four packs of blackberry coolers for you guys and two cherry for Luanne," I said, taking the money from her.

"No, just get one for her this time," Julie corrected. "I'm not dragging her drunk ass home anymore. Thanks, hun, the party rests on your shoulders! Come on, girls, lets head to class!" Julie led the way off with her groupies trailing behind her – except for one. Sarah-Lee Robertson. She remained behind, with Justin and I, keeping an eye out for Julie and the other groupies, who didn't even notice she was missing.

There was always something about Sarah that caught my eye. She was born to a rich Canadian department store owner who relocated to Raccoon City when she was seven years old. Her mother was a fourth generation Chinese American, giving Sarah-Lee a mix of attractive bi-racial features. Her light brown hair was stick straight like her mother's, and her almond shaped, hazel eyes had this intense glow to them. She was petite like her mother, but commanded respect like her father, which always made me wonder why she would ever lower herself to being one of Julie's groupies. As far as I was concerned, she could overthrow Julie as the most popular girl just based on her looks. But what part of her decided to give way to Wilberforce, I will never know.

"Your group's leaving you behind," Justin pointed out.

"I know," Sarah replied, looking at them over her shoulder. "I thought they'd never give us alone time. Justin, do you think you could give Kenny and I a minute?"

"Sure man, I know it's been awhile since you guys have had any private time. I gotta head off to class anyway. Good lucky at work, Kenny! See you guys later."

Justin left Sarah and I at the bottom of the school stairs where we normally hung out. "You want some company on your way to work?" she asked me.

"Sure," I said. "It gets boring after awhile. I can only be entertained by the same store signs for so long. But don't you have to get to class?"

She shook her head. "Not today. I'm two chapters ahead in English so I figured I could afford a day off."

"You're a keener," I smirked.

"Not unlike you," she retaliated with a coy smile spreading across her lips.

"Touché."

"Listen," she said, "I wanted to ask you – on Sunday, the day after Lisa's party, would you like to come see a movie with me?"

I almost stopped dead in my tracks. Was she asking me out on a date? I had to bite my tongue to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I always had my eye on Sarah-Lee Robertson, but I never knew those feelings were reciprocated. And it wasn't like she was _asking_ me either. It was more like an invite. Typical of Sarah, really, always carrying an air of dignity in whatever she did.

"Uh … sure," I stammered, unsure of what else would say. "That would be …" but I finished the sentence off with a beaming smile that was reflected in her face, after she heard the answer.

"That's cool," she said, barely able to contain her excitement. I could understand – I felt the same way. "So what movie are you interested in seeing?"

"I wanna see 'The Blob from Crescent Swamp'," I replied excitedly, but then I bit my lip. Justin always told me to pretend to be interested in the boring movies that nothing ever happens in, cause girls like that stuff. I believed him cause, hell, he was way more successful than me in the chick department than I've ever been. "Then again," I continued, " I've been wanting to see 'River in the Spring' too. It looks …" I searched my mind for a word, "…deep."

Sarah faked a gag. "I'm down with the Blob. Evening or matinee?"

"Evening."

"Alright, I can come by your place at … six o'clock on Sunday? Kenny? Kenny … what's wrong?"

I'd stopped walking, my mouth gaping open in horror. "S…Sarah," I whispered quietly, "don't move." Her eyes followed my gaze and she gasped, clinging onto my elbow.

"Oh my gosh," she whispered back, "back away slowly."

Standing directly in our path, munching hungrily on a dead corpse, their lips smacking against a freshly killed pedestrian was a pack of wild Dobermans, exactly as Chris and the others had described. Their skin was peeling off their bodies, exposing the raw muscle underneath. One of them stared at Sarah and I through eyeless sockets. Their bellies had all rotted away, dragging their entrails wherever they went in a trail of crimson blood. They all looked at us, their heads picking up from their meals as they detected their next warm meal with their decomposing snouts, and growled viciously at us, baring their razor fangs.


	9. Chapter 8: Slowly Going Crazy

**Astral Slayer Asuka: **Actually, Sakura isn't just a street fighter character, but the Japanese term for cherry blossom as well. No, I had neither of those on my mind – I just read your name wrong and thus, spelled it wrong. ;)

**HHoD**You may have had a slightly different mental picture of them in your mind, and not explained them in your story. But when it comes to Phil and his similarities to what you picture, you have to admit I'm a damn good mind-reader! Screw writing, I'll open up my own fortune telling business instead. I hear the money's great.

**E-Z B: **With the exception of Lisa and Kenny, it seems to me that all the uptown kids end up zombie chow in Project Lucifer. Oh, I hope that doesn't spoil any hopes my readers may have had for these characters …

**XXXXX**

Sarah and I backed up as far as slowly as we could go, her hands raised protectively in front of her face while I muttered gently, "Good doggy, good boy …" But they walked towards us, their menacing growls uttering from the depths of their spilled guts.

"This doesn't look like it's working," Sarah whispered. I opened my mouth to reply, but before any sound could come out, the closest creature leapt at her. She let out an ear piercing shriek. I don't know what came over me at that moment, but I ran for her, turning my back to the dog creature. It leapt onto my backpack, the force knocking me to the floor. I lay sprawled on the pavement while it sunk its shark-like fangs into the fabric of my bag, ripping and tearing away at it. I was pinned to the ground with nowhere to go.

Sarah scrambled backwards to gain a some distance before her and the dog as it stood over me, probably wondering why it hadn't tasted any blood yet. Sarah held her English textbook in her hands – hardcover. I'd never been so thankful for them making such heavy-ass books in my life. Sure they broke our backs carrying them to school everyday, but today, one of those things saved my life. Sarah held the textbook high over her head. She let out a scream of anger, almost a war cry – something I've never heard a nice uptown girl like herself ever produce, and brought it down hard and fast upon the dog's head. I could feel her crush its skull into my backpack, into the books inside, and onto my back.

The creature was stunned for a moment and I was unsure exactly the extent of the damage Sarah had caused. But I flipped over, taking a risk by exposing my vulnerable underside and kicked upwards with as much strength as my leg could muster. My foot connected with the dog's jaw, forcing it to clamp shut on its slobbery tongue, cutting it cleanly in half. The tongue fell from the creature's mouth and onto my shirt. Screaming with fright and disgust, I scrambled to my feet, shaking it off my now bloody shirt, afraid to touch it. My kick had knocked the creature onto its back and had probably broke its neck or something, because it wasn't moving, instead lying in a pool of its own blood on the pavement.

That might've taken the creature down but there were three more to contend with. They were now running full speed from their meal towards us. We could've taken one down, just the two of us, but there was no way we'd stand a chance against three of them, armed with only a textbook.

"Book it!" I ordered, seizing Sarah by the wrist. We spun around and ran into the direction we'd just come from as hard as our legs and our lungs would allow. Despite being a smoker, I was somehow able to keep at it longer than Sarah, as I felt myself pulling her along faster than she could run. The wind whipped at her hair, at my ears, whistling crazily as we ran. The breeze cooled our skin, but I could still feel the heat of the dogs' breath nipping at our heels.

I glanced around at our surroundings, finding the streets surprisingly empty. Where was everybody? It was only like, two in the afternoon! My mind was racing with panic but somehow, I was able to think logically, if only for a split second, but it was a split second that had managed to save both our lives that day. Sarah used a single textbook and was able to take out a dog with it. I had an entire backpack filled with that stuff. If one book could cause as much damage as it did to one of those creatures, imagine what an entire sack of the stuff could do! I had to try it. It was a risky situation and I could have failed, but if I didn't, the dogs would be on us. I had nothing to lose. I slipped an arm from under one of the double strapped. With my other arm, I ushered Sarah ahead so I wouldn't accidentally nail her with my bag.

"What are you doing!" she asked, but I didn't have enough time to reply, only enough time to act. I pushed her ahead and stopped dead in my tracks, spinning around to face the dogs. I wasn't scared at that moment, only prepared to die if it at least bought Sarah enough time to escape. The animals were running to fast to avoid a collision with me. I lifted my bag and swung it without losing momentum from my 180 turn. The sack of books collided with the creature as it struggled to stop itself from a collision course with me, knocking it clean from my path. It let out a pathetic whelp as my bag made contact and I could feel a few canine ribs snapping beneath the force of the impact.

"Kenny are you crazy!" Sarah cried hysterically when she realized what I was doing. She whirled around and attempted to force me to run along with her.

"Get out of here!" I ordered. "I've got these freaks!"

There were two dogs left now, and they were down on their haunches, ready to spring into attack. One of them jumped at me, only to meet my backpack, coming around again for a second wipe. It hit the creature, but not as hard as I intended for it to. It fell to the ground, but I didn't think I hurt it enough for Fido to stay down. I followed up the attack with a couple of hard stomps downward onto the thing's skull, crushing it with considerable force. And when it had stopped moving, I heard Sarah scream and felt my blood run cold. Only one of the canine creatures had made an attempt at me. The other must've gone for her!

But when I turned to look, I saw Sarah bludgeoning her attacker with … her purse? Her English textbook lay a few feet away, smothered with blood after probably having collided with the rotting dog. She was now wailing the creature's head with her pink purse, having it bouncing harmlessly off the creature's head as it struggled to get up. The purse was more of a distraction than a weapon, really.

"Kick it's face in!" I shouted to her. She shot a glance at me and nodded once, jamming her foot into the dog's face. The high heel of her expensive looking Prada shoes sunk into the canine's eye while the toe landed in its brow. She pulled her foot back and kicked again, this time hitting its jaw, snapping its head backwards with a bone-breaking crunch.

The creature stopped moving and bled to death, unable to get up. Sarah and I stood in the middle of the deserted street, the wind continually blowing at us while we could only stand there, try to catch our breaths, which was difficult enough, and then comprehend what the hell just happened to us.

"Are you okay?" I asked, running to her side.

"Oh my fucking god," she said, reaching her hands for mine. She took my fingers into her hands. They were ghostly white, cold, and she was shaking like a leaf. I could feel my own shivers, the adrenaline still fresh in my veins. Sarah then threw her arms around me and I did the same. Our bodies were shaking with fright and there was nobody else to comfort us but each other. "Y…you're okay, right?" she asked.

"Only if you are," I replied. She shook her head in reply, too hurt to say anything else. "Did they bite you!"

Sarah shook her head again, this time, tears flowing down her face. "My shoes!" she wailed.

For the next few minutes neither of us could move as the adrenaline subsided and the cold reality sunk in while the corpses of the recently killed canines lay around us. What the hell was happening in Raccoon?

**XXXX**

The police came immediately after we called them. Sarah and I were in no shape to walk to the precinct after our brush with death. The dispatcher ordered us to stay put while the police and ambulance arrived and checked us for wounds. But they weren't the first people to show up on the scene. Strange men, covered in biohazard suits came first, working hastily as if they were racing against each other to see who could body bag a dog corpse in the shortest amount of time. I approached them to ask for some assistance, but they ordered me gruffly to sit down and stay put. They came, did their work, and left – all within a five minute time frame. And then the cops showed up and took Sarah away somewhere. It didn't look like they were in a rush to send us to the hospital after the medics checked us over. They never even bothered moving us from the scene of the incident.

"It's a miracle you made it out alright," Rita said, putting her hand on my shoulder. They had a thick wool blanket around them. In between my hands, I held a piping hot cup of coffee. For your typical victim, it was usually water or hot chocolate, but fortunately the police department was familiar with my taste in beverages. Sticking out from between my fingers was a lit cigarette, the smoke trailing gently into the air. Rita was seat on the opposite side of me from the smoke, but would once in awhile hold her hand to her mouth and nose to prevent herself from getting too much second hand smoke exposure.

"It's a good thing you got here as soon as possible," I said.

"I'm just glad you're okay, and that you had enough brains and luck to survive this attack. We came over as soon as we could."

"How's Sarah doing?" I asked.

"The police have taken her home. I'm proud of what you did for her."

"Who took her home?"

"Not Officer Ryman, don't worry," Rita smiled. "I think she's had enough of a scare for the day. She's with Officer Aaron."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Rita," I said slowly. "I think I saw one of those animal attacks in the works. Not one of the mysterious cannibal cases, but those reports of rabid canines killing people, shredding them to pieces …"

"What kind of creatures were they, Kenny?"

"Didn't you see the bodies of those things!" I asked.

"No, the cleanup crew came before we did. You saw them yourself."

"Yeah, but I wonder what those biohazard suits they were wearing were for. How did those people know about what happened? I only called the police after the incident."

"Chief Irons sent them out immediately before he dispatched the officers," Rita explained. "That makes me wonder why he did it like that. The safety of the survivors is top priority. You should have been evacuated first if indeed there was a biohazard about the corpses of the creatures. But the cleanup crew came first. I don't understand it … What was so important about taking the corpses away from the ground before making sure the survivors were okay?"

"Curious, isn't it?" I agreed. "It's as if they don't want anyone seeing the corpses …"

"Why?" Rita asked, tacking on another question I couldn't answer. "They were just dogs, right? It's important for us to find out what species of dog …"

And then I understood why. It had clicked so suddenly, so quickly, that the realization shocked even me. They were dogs that should've been dead. The way they were bleeding, the skin peeling off their bodies, the hollow eyes, the stench of death they emitted … someone was trying to hide the fact that zombies existed from the public. If there were zombie dogs, there could be zombie people. The picture at the precinct! The one that depicted a ghoulish man, who could otherwise be described as a zombie!

"Is there something wrong?" Rita asked, this time facing me.

"N…no," I choked out. I didn't want to describe the creatures to her right away. I didn't want her to think I was crazy. There was no way she would believe me. I've seen how the officers treat Chris and the others now, avoiding them thinking they could snap at any given moment, smirking at them whenever the surviving S.T.A.R.S. officers weren't around, making jokes like they've suddenly gone crazy. I didn't want to share that fate with them. So I just said, "they were Dobermans, Rita. Probably somebody's pet dogs gone loose or something."

"That's it?" she asked. "Well you can tell that to the chief then. He says he wants to question you directly, without anyone else involved with your statement. So let's just pretend you didn't tell me anything, okay?" She smiled and got to her feet. "Enjoy the rest of your smoke. I've got some work to do. And I think you should go home tonight. You're not in any shape to work today."

I watched Rita walk away into a group of similarly dressed officers, some of them standing around and talking, some firemen removing the corpse of the person the dogs had been feeding on before they spotted Sarah and me. What happened to us was just so freaky – like it belonged in some kind of horror movie. What kind of force would make the bodies of animals rot, but give them the kind of strength their decomposing muscle could never display? The mere physics of it just couldn't work! I was so absorbed in my thoughts when I felt a hand clamp gently on my shoulder, giving me a slight fright as I looked up to see who it was.

"Officer Redfield," I called out of respect, and surprise.

"So you saw them too, right?" he asked, the grim frown never leaving his face. It was official. I was a part of their crazy club.


	10. Chapter 9: Alcohol Induced Drama

Of all people, I thought for sure that Chief Irons would be the most interested in hearing what I had to say. He was the chief of police, after all. And I was excited to tell him my story, about what happened to me and Sarah on my way to work earlier this afternoon. I had a mental speech prepared, outlining every little gory detail of those creatures that attacked us. So when he sat me down in his private office – the one with all those creepy stuffed animals that only his meetings with Umbrella officials were held – I spilled everything, making sure not to leave a single detail out. Everything about those canine monsters was covered from their unprovoked aggression, their rotting bodies, and their surprising strength. I decided to give him the full story so that maybe, just maybe he would take the S.T.A.R.S. story into account after seeing the parallels, send out an investigation team to uncover the mystery and we can all live happily ever after.

"I want you to forget about what you saw," Chief Irons said. This was the first time he showed any form of emotion since sitting me down at his desk. Most of the time I spent talking, he looked disinterested from his body posture, the way he gazed impatiently at me, his occasional sighs.

"B…but, sir," I stammered, completely floored that he would disregard a civilian's report – one that was based on the truth, and from a civilian that worked at the very police station he ran! "Importance to Raccoon's civilian lives aside, zombie dogs are a pretty rare occurrence. Aren't you even curious as to what caused this to happen?"

"I am curious," Chief Irons admitted, "but it is for the sake of the community that I do not want this matter pursued. With all the crazy stories out there already, do you really think I want to alarm the public by starting a full scale investigation?"

"But it seems we have something worthy of an investigation. People are being killed all over the city. I could've been one of those people today. At least the city will feel that the police have things under control."

"I appreciate the thought, Kenny, but perhaps you could leave running police business to me? Things are more under control than you think they are. Trust me on this. Now I want you to forget everything you saw today, and just carry on with your day to day life."

"But sir, I …"

"You are dismissed."

I rose bitterly from my seat and left the office, my mind swimming with frustration and confusion. I had took the time to plan out everything I was going to say, to convince the chief that there was a real problem going on in the city but despite all that, I was turned around and showed the door. No wonder Chris was so pissed off at Chief Irons the other day. I thought it was just his temper, but no, Chief Irons was a real jerk. Something happened to the S.T.A.R.S. members in the Arklay mountains. Over half the team perished in two nights. The survivors came back with crazy ghost stories and nobody believed them. Yet, nobody could explain how the others died either.

I was one of those people – one of those ignorant critics who wouldn't believe Chris's story. I was still in denial when even as crazy as their stories were, they were eerily consistent, still in denial after seeing live photography of the monsters they spoke of. It took a near fatal attack from the very monsters they spoke of for reality to bite me in the ass, and it bit hard.

Chris was at his usual spot in the alley, just across the street from the station and down a few blocks. The smoke he exhaled from his cigarette and his flushed, angry face made him look like a steaming kettle as he puffed away violently. His green S.T.A.R.S. vest was slung over his shoulder, revealing his white T-shirt with his team's logo emblazoned on both sleeves. His brown eyes looked up at me as I entered the alley, and then back at the brick wall across from him.

"Hey," I said, not sure what else to say.

"What's up, Squirt?" he greeted. There was an awkward silence. Neither of us knew what we should have said to each other at that point. Chris was already in on the whole story, probably investigating the mystery with the other surviving S.T.A.R.S. members, digging deeper and deeper into the mystery. I was far, far behind them when it came to knowledge in this department. But I wasn't sure I wanted to be involved either. I just wanted to know what the hell was going on, and hopefully the police were going to put a stop to this. But circumstances had little to do with what I wanted. Against my own will, I had experienced one of those monsters that were no longer so hard to imagine.

Chris seemed to read my mind as he stared ahead at the wall, smoking away at his cigarette, but I could tell he felt me near. It wasn't surprising he knew what was going through my head. He was probably thinking the same thing after seeing these monsters, that there was no way they could exist. Yet after surviving a night of monsters that couldn't possibly exist, they'd come back to warn the town but everyone seemed determined to stay in the state of ignorance. But yet, how could we be blamed? Stories of zombie people, zombie dogs, deadly crows, cannibal plants and eight foot tall men with claws were far fetched, exaggerated. I could come up with a better lie. But the scary truth was, this might not have been a lie after all.

"I spoke to the chief today," Chris said, breaking the silence, "just before he had his little sit-down with you."

"What did you talk about?"

"I wanted to convince him to start a formal investigation on the matter. We've discovered a lot about this mystery, and there are forces within Raccoon itself that are contributing to it."

"Are you saying there is someone in Raccoon responsible for these cannibal and animal attacks?"

"One of our own," Chris replied grimly.

"Who?"

"They've got people working for them spread all throughout the city."

"Who are you talking about!" I repeated. "Who's responsible for all this?" And I felt I had a right to know now. So many people had succumbed to these attacks. Lisa's neighbor, that poor lady who came in yesterday drenched in blood, and Sarah and I had narrowly escaped. Justin was probably in trouble too, living in that vicinity. We all had a right to know as victims, and as citizens of Raccoon.

"I don't want you getting involved," Chris suddenly said. "We are dealing with dangerous people. The only advice I can give you is to leave the city as soon as possible."

"But I have nowhere to go outside of Raccoon. All I have here is my schooling and if I don't have that …"

"Anywhere is better than this place. Finish up your volunteer hours. Work days without sleep if you have to. Just get the hell out of the city. I have no idea how safe it'll be to live here in a few weeks with the rate of the attacks going up."

"But what about you?" I asked. Chris was telling me to leave town, and hopefully he was telling his closest friends and family that as well. But was he planning on staying here in the city, or was he planning leaving with them as well?

"I'm heading to Europe with Officer Burton," he said.

I scratched my head. "Raccoon City plunges in to chaos and you go on vacation? Doesn't sound like a bad plan to me but … don't you think there are others to worry about?"

"It's work related," Chris explained. "But I want you to leave town, Kenny. I'm not joking. If we can survive a night of near death experiences and save at least one civilian life with our stories, I will be happy. And now you've experienced the creatures yourself. You have little choice but to believe us. So please, leave town as soon as you can."

I was speechless. And Chris was serious. He stared intensely at me, as if willing me to agree to leave. "Alright, Chris," I said finally. "I'll leave town."

He extended a hand. "Promise me."

I took his hand and we shared a firm handshake. "I promise."

**XXXXX**

**August 8th, 1998**

I lurched out of the liquor store with two shopping bags in each hand, each bag filled to the brim with the alcohol for the party that night. Such great friends they were, really, letting me handle all this by myself. I had no car, and probably had to take the public transit over to Lisa's house to be on time. And considering that it was the alcohol that made the party, there would be no party if I didn't arrive at 6:30 pm, when it was officially supposed to start.

Somebody honked at me as I was headed through the parking lot over to the bus stop. Sitting in a bright red convertible was Phil, his arm characteristically over the empty passenger seat. The hood was retracted for any passerby to get a good look at the genuine leather seats and drool in envy. Phil's parents, like most of the uptown parents were pretty darn rich. He was an only child and was naturally spoiled without having to work a day in his life. They thought, and so did most of us at school, that he had a bright career in football. And I tended to agree with that train of thought. He wasn't academically nor artistically inclined, but he excelled in the athletics. Justin and him used to be the head jocks of the school, but since being kicked from the team with his marijuana 'addiction', he left Phil as the reigning jock at RCSS.

"I figured you'd need a lift," Phil said, looking at me over the rims of his Gucci sunglasses. "Hop in."

"Where's Jamie and Justin?" I asked curiously, unloading the alcohol in the back seat.

"They're already on their way to Lisa's," he replied. "I asked about you, but nobody had any idea what was going on with you and the alcohol so I thought I'd stop over and have a look. Seems like I got here on time."

"I would've made it," I said, my pride a little damaged.

"Yeah and it would've taken for-fucking-ever. We've been waiting all week for the party and I refuse to wait anymore. Did you get everything?"

"They didn't have any Reds," I replied, talking about the cigarettes they wanted me to buy. "So I got two packs of lights instead. Hope you don't mind."

"Heh," Phil scoffed, "you know as well as anyone does that a smoke is a smoke when it comes down to it. They kill us all the same." I handed over the change to Phil, but he held his hand out.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "You keep it as a tip for your services."

"I dunno about you smoking, man," I said, sounding more like a parent than I intended to. "It'll do something to your endurance if you smoke enough. And you of all people would be hurt by it."

"Thanks, dad," Phil muttered as we pulled out of the lot and onto the road.

"Where's your girlfriend tonight?" I asked as we were driving down the busy streets. It would've been awhile before we reached the suburban neighborhoods of Raccoon, where Lisa lived.

"She's stuck in bed with the cold," Phil replied. "Plus she doesn't really know Lisa so it'd be kinda awkward if she showed up anyway."

"Since when did that stop anyone from showing up at Lisa's parties?"

"Good point. I guess she's got more class than the rest of us."

"Well you better watch your back tonight then," I advised. "Word has it that Julie's trying to get into your pants."

"HAH!" Phil laughed. "Julie? You couldn't pay be enough money, man. That girl's the fakest thing to hit the market since Barbie. Plus I'm taken, so there's no way I'd go anywhere near her. Oh, I haven't told you about the fight the other day, did I?"

"Oh yeah, you were gonna scrap with the downtown kids, weren't you? How'd it go?"

"Kicked their asses, man, real good," Phil bragged. "They had these gay-ass nicknames for each other like 'Batman'. So they're skating around on the streets right. And Jamie goes up to one of them, sticks his foot out and stops one of their skateboards. The kid goes flying in the air and lands a few feet away, smashes into the pavement." Phil spoke excitedly as he recalled the events of the fight, reliving them as if they were happening all over again. "He gets up and his face is all bloody and shit, cusses at Jamie. So then Jamie kicks him in the face while I just stand there and watch. That kid sure had a broken nose or something after all that."

I grimaced as I heard the details. "You better watch out," I said, "you're gonna end up killing somebody one of these days."

Phil shook his head. "Nah, I'd never kill anyone. But I'd definitely teach them to think twice before messing with me or my friends. So anyway, this street rat … what was his name again …" He snapped his fingers trying to recall the name. "He's that shit head pretty boy in your history class …"

"You beat up Jack Carpenter?" I asked. Lisa wouldn't be happy once she found out. Hell, she probably already knew.

"Yeah, that's his name. And no, I didn't beat him up. Jamie did. I broke the skateboard, though. Then he calls his friends over – these punks with grubby clothes. Then they came for me and decked me right in the face – this guy they called Antonio. Broke my sunglasses, too. So that's when I lost it and totally went hog wild on their asses."

"It was just you and Jamie against them?"

"Nuh uh, Justin was there too. He pretty much came for moral support but after they started attacking him, he fought back like there was no tomorrow. He got a black eye and a busted lip, but otherwise I think he's okay. You should've been there, Kenny. It was awesome!"

"The cops didn't end up coming?"

"Oh they did, but by the time they got there, we were done with those punks. Every last one of them lay bleeding on the floor. I made sure not to bust any bones, just in case anyone of them had the money to sue us. This one lady officer tried to question me just as we were walking away from the scene, though. I didn't wanna look suspicious so I co-operated. I lied my way through, that dumbass bitch. She believed everything. Officer Bernstein, she called her self.

I had to snicker. "God, you're such a dickhead."

"What? You know what all those cops are like, man. Trouble makers and shit … oh no wait – you work for them, don't you?"

I nodded. "That was Amber. Trust me, if you got to know her outside of her uniform, she' s a pretty sweet lady. But I hope you didn't do anything mean to her. Her boyfriend just died."

"Oh," Phil paused. He may have been a dickhead, but somewhere inside him, there was a heart. "Nah, I just put on a smile and acted all schoolboy and shit. I think she believed cause she let us go. Oh hey …" he gripped by shoulder suddenly. "I heard about what happened to you that day."

"… what happened to me?" The dogs did, I recalled well enough. But Chief Irons practically ordered me to forget about the events and I wasn't about to disobey the chief of police.

"Don't lie, man," Phil said, "Sarah told us everything. The poor girl, she was fuckin' hysterical when she told Julie. I was there. She was all shaking and white as a ghost. You were attacked by a bunch of dogs?"

Deciding that hiding it wasn't going to get me anywhere, I decided to add to what Phil already knew, telling him the rest of the details that Sarah couldn't when she was too shaken up. "They were these freakish dogs," I explained, "strangely aggressive and they were eating a dead guy on the street."

"…what the fuck …"

"I know," I said, "and it happened uptown, just a few blocks from the police station."

"Shit, those freaky cases are getting closer and closer."

"More widespread, I'd say. Phil, I'm thinking we skip school for a couple of days."

He let out a hearty laugh. "Skip school? I'm game but you're the last person I thought I'd ever hear that from! Why the sudden attitude change?"

"I don't think it's safe here. We should just leave for a month and come back when the police have these cases under control."

"Easy for you to say, man," Phil said, "you're pretty much ahead of the rest of our class. You could afford to take some time off school but I can't. They'll make me retake the tenth grade if I flunk out this semester."

"But what if somebody gets attacked? The police clearly aren't doing a good job of finding the perpetrators, even though the murders are happening like, every day now. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty freaked out."

"Don't worry about it. You're a good guy. If anybody fucks with you, just lemme know and I'll mess them up myself."

"I don't know if it's necessarily people we're dealing with here …"

"Aww, wittle Kenny afwaid of the big bad wolf?" Phil teased, trembling his lower lip.

"Well you weren't almost fucking mauled by one!"

"Chill out, man," he said, elbowing me lightly in the ribs. "I'm sorry okay. Touchy subject, I got it. Sheesh!"

**XXXX**

From the outside, Lisa's home was a quaint two storey building built in the San Francisco Victorian style, and was fairly large. The blue panel white framed building peeked out at Phil and I as we pulled up, from behind a luxurious rose garden with a little cobblestone pathway leading from the white picket perimeter fence to her stained glass double door entrance. From outside, we could hear the bass of the loud music booming from within the building's walls. Justin was sitting on the veranda, with a doobie hanging from his mouth as he noticed us approach. He was looking a little more dressed up tonight, with his hair spiked up with gel. And instead of wearing his usual jersey, he sported a dark green preppy looking short sleeved collared shirt with khaki pants and dress shoes.

"Nobody told me this was gonna be a formal occasion," Phil joked as we approached.

"You got the booze?" Justin asked.

"Right here," I replied, holding up the bags in my hand.

"You're awesome, Kenny!" he exclaimed excitedly, running for the main door. He opened in a creak and yelled inside. "Booze is here!" he announced. Immediately we heard a thunder of footsteps from within the house as everyone ran for the porch to grab their fare share before anyone else could.

Practically everyone from school was there – even the people I'd seen walking through the halls but never really knew. Hell, there were even people I didn't know there. I knew Lisa was a popular girl, but there was no way she could've had this many close friends.

Phil and I walked into the house and parted ways, him taking off for his group of jock friends as I went off to search for Lisa. I would've stayed on the porch with Justin to have a smoke, but I figured she'd be mad at me for letting Phil get to Jack but I wanted to clear up any misunderstanding.

I found her sitting with Julie and her groupie. Lisa seemed unenergetic like she always was at the parties she hosted, usually against her will. She was hunched over, looking relatively unimpressed as Julie blabbered on and on about how hard it was to get her hair done for tonight. The groupies poured their attention over Julie like puppy dogs staring in affection and adoration at their master.

"Hey Lisa," I said, walking up to the group.

"Oh my GOSH, Kenny!" Julie cried excitedly, pulling me off my feet into a hug. "I'm so glad you're finally here! Thanks for the booze tonight." I smelled alcohol on her breath and tried to avoid the liquid splashing dangerously in her beer bottle. "Do you have any change for me?"

"No, I'm sorry," I apologized. "Your bill came to more than the fifty bucks you gave me and I had to chip in some of my own money to cover the rest."

"Uh huh …" she said, looking at me with lazy, drunken eyes. "So how much do I owe you then?"

"Nothing, the rest is on me. Excuse me, I've gotta talk to Lisa."

"And I've got to talk to you too," Lisa said, rising from her seat. She took me by the arm and led me inside, into the kitchen. She headed for the fridge and opened it, taking out jug of orange juice. "Thanks for coming tonight," she said as she moved. "I don't know what I would've done if you didn't."

"You've got all these people to keep you company," I replied, motioning around to all the guests.

"You actually think I want them here?" Lisa scoffed. "Julie invited them. I have no idea who they are, and they don't go to our school."

"Why didn't you ask Jack to come?" I asked.

"I did, but he knows what you all think of him and decided not to. He'd be asking for trouble if he came, and it'd be best if we avoided any confrontations."

"I'm finished confronting Jack," I said. "As long as he stays out of my way, we're cool."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean the others are. God, it's so tough keeping him as a friend while holding on to everyone else. Pass me the vodka."

I handed over the alcohol, watching her mix it with the half glass of orange juice she just poured herself. "You know, Lisa … don't take this the wrong way. But if you really like Jack as a friend, and the others are willing to ditch you for it, do you ever consider that maybe the others aren't good friends to begin with? Why bother holding on to such friendships?"

"I don't," she said. "It's those people who cling onto me, who bother me, who tell me that Jack's not worth it, that he's nothing but downtown scum. I can't get these people to leave me alone, people like Julie and …" she looked at me regretfully in the eyes, "…you." She placed a glass in front of me. "Help yourself to a drink." Lisa took a swig of her orange/vodka mix.

"Hey, we have our opinions," I replied, plopping myself at the dining table. Lisa joined set her glass down and joined me.

"The only difference between you and Julie is you only give me your opinion on Jack when I bring him up."

"Which is like, all the time."

"I do not."

"Yeah right."

"The point is, Julie goes on and on about him, regardless on whether he's around. Sometimes we'll be talking about nothing remotely related to him, but Julie will be able to spin it into something derogatory about him. This shallow rift between the uptown and downtown societies has to stop."

"Julie's right, you've changed," I said, leaning back in my seat.

Lisa looked at me curiously. "How so?"

"Whatever happened to the Lisa Hartley who used to go hiking with me two years ago, the one who liked to pick the salmon berries growing by the stream?" The corners of her mouth lifted a little in a shy smile, remembering the old times. "What happened to the Lisa Hartley who perfected my English skills, who got rid of my foreign accent, who showed me around Raccoon City? What happened to the Lisa Hartley who would show up spontaneously at my doorstep when I'm feeling down? I don't see her anymore. Now it's all Jack, Jack, and more fucking Jack."

"That's because he's got nobody else to watch out for him in school."

"That's real nice of you, it really is," I said, "but if you ask me, you've lost a lot of good friendships as a result. You think we're just being assholes to Jack for the fun of it. But you don't see the other side of the story."

Lisa shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand you."

"How long have you known Jack now? You met him at the end of last year. We're in summer school right now so you've known him for roughly two months. You have cut off complete communication with Julie and the others. Sure, she's a fucking bitch but you made her your official best for a reason, Lisa. And now that you've found someone else, you've ditched her completely. I don't care so much that you ditched Julie – hell, I'd love to push her in front of train myself, but the fact that you have it in you to completely abandon people."

"I don't mean to do it …"

"The people you are choosing to abandon are the ones who've known you your whole life. You were born and raised in uptown Raccoon City. All of a sudden, you meet some kid from downtown who only just moved here and you just dump everything and run off with him. Now it's all Jack, Jack, Jack. And if you think Justin, Phil, Julie and her groupies are going to stand for that, losing we've known for so long to some downtown kid you've known for two months, then you're wrong. You don't even appreciate the fact that you mean enough to these people for them to fight for you."

"Oh my gosh," Lisa said, putting a hand to her mouth, "I've never thought about it like that before. I always thought you were all just mean to Jack because he's not as fortunate."

"Him being poor is hardly the reason."

"Is that why you dislike Jack, too?" Lisa asked. "You said Julie and the boys were willing to fight for me, but you never said anything about yourself."

"That's why I disliked Jack at first. But as time went on, I began to see it was more you than it was him. I've given up on whatever is left of our friendship. Whatever happens between us happens but I'm not going to fight to have you choose your friends. You make that choice for yourself. That's what friendships are – give and takes. Whatever I get from you, I'll return, but I'm not going to put in anymore effort for you to pay attention to me. If you really want to, you'll do it without being guilt tripped. Unlike the others, I've only known you for two years. I can drop you like a fly if I have to."

"I've never heard you talk like this before …" Lisa said, visibly upset.

"I still care about you," I said, "but you had this coming. You need to realize the truth. The uptown kids picking on Jack because he's poor? What a shallow, ignorant, and inaccurate way of summarizing the situation. Think about it, Lisa. Maybe it's neither Jack nor your friends. Maybe it's you." Lisa swallowed a visible lump in her throat. "I'm sorry if I sound harsh. I'm trying to make you think, not hurt you."

I got up from my seat and left her to her own brain, hoping that finally, something I said hit home for her. The alcohol was starting to kick in – and it actually started way back when I was talking to Lisa. I know - I'm a cheap drunk. But it definitely helped in getting out whatever I needed to say. I slid open the glass door to head outside into the backyard. The summer heat was getting the better of me from inside the house. As I stepped outside, I felt someone grab my elbow gently.

"Thank you, Kenny." It was Julie. Well, it was her body but definitely not the Julie I knew. She was calm, collected, unenergetic, and … sad. Normally, I would've grinned in sinful delight at her torture but tonight, especially given my recent lecture to Lisa, I felt sorry for Julie, what her best friend had put her through all because of a boy.

"Thank me for what?" I asked, unsure what she was talking about. The alcohol permeating from her was suffocating. "You're drunk. Come on, let's get you to the toilet before you puke all over me." I began tugging her firmly but gently but she resisted.

"I mean it," she continued, "and I'm not saying this because I'm fucking hammered. I heard everything you said to Lisa." I froze in my tracks. "Lisa had to hear it, and I tried telling her. But everything I said, she took it as an attack on Jack. She never listened to anything I had to say to her. That's why I talked to you the other day in front of the school. You're the only one she really listens to nowadays."

"You could've just explained the situation," I said. "You didn't have to threaten me."

"I only threatened you because I didn't think you'd take me seriously. Nobody ever does. I'm just the blonde bitchy bimbo and a professional skank as far as anyone is concerned. Even Lisa. Justin fucked me last summer, then he fucked me over, using me for sex then completely ditching me. Lisa was there for me back then. If that happened this year …" she shook her head.

"I'm sorry it had to happen to you, but at least now you've got Luanne, Sarah-Lee, Mary and Leonie. Four people are better than one."

"I wanted you to break up Jack and Lisa so I could get her back into our group. But I think what you did tonight was so much better than anything I could ever think up. And even if Lisa chooses not to continue with her ways, at least we know what she's like for sure." Julie leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on my cheek and walked away, back to join her groupies. I stood rooted to the spot, completely floored with what had happened in the last five minutes. I'd bitched out Lisa Hartley and received a kiss from Julie Wilberforce. Yeah, we were all definitely drunk.


	11. Chapter 10: Unearthly Moans and Birds

**August 9****th****, 1998**

I'd just stepped out of the shower when the phone rang, every repetition of that intense, shrill bell bouncing off the walls, hurting my ears. I seized a towel, hanging on the rack and wrapped it around my waist, running for the phone with beads of water still covering my body, my hair still dripping wet. The air brushing up against my body chilled me to the core. Goosebumps had sprouted all over by the time I picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Kenny, " the caller said, "I was thinking about what you said yesterday."

"Lisa, can this wait?" I asked impatiently, making sure to keep the tone of my voice polite. "I'm actually getting ready for an outing right now. Can I call you back when I get home later tonight?"

"Uh … sure," Lisa replied. "Sorry to bother you."

"It's no problem." I hung up the phone and dashed back into the washroom where it was still nice, warm and steamy from my hot shower. It was freakishly cold out here in the living room.

Sarah was going to show up any minute for our date. I wiped the steam from the mirror and took out a razor from the drawer. Pressing my face up to the mirror, which had already begun steaming up again, I inspected my jaw carefully, running my fingers over the surface. Smooth like a baby's bottom. I'd been trying to grow some facial hair – a lot of the other kids in school already had thick stubble. But I still looked like a ten year old child. People always said facial hair made you look older but I didn't get why I wasn't able to get any. Sometimes I just blamed it on the Asian thing.

Sarah and I were going to see the Blob from Crescent Swamp. I've been excited about the flick since watching the previews on TV. Justin had already seen it and he didn't wanna pay to go again, and I was fortunate enough that Sarah seemed interested too. I was not going to pass up this opportunity – watching a movie I knew I'd love with my potential girlfriend. This was a rare enough occurrence in the official dating world – one that I've had the misfortune to be excluded from. But tonight, the Fates were smiling upon me.

I booked it to my room and eye-picked my wardrobe from the clothes strewn all over the floor. It would be a warm night tonight, so I suppose shorts would've been the best gear. Denim? No. Track shorts? Definitely no. Spandex? Ew, where the hell did those come from? Khaki? Well … I suppose that could work. I quickly slipped into them and repeated the selection process, this time for a shirt. Well, Justin was wearing that nice checkered shirt at Lisa's house last night and it looked pretty good on him. So it'd probably look just as good on me. I had a similar shirt – we bought them at the same time when we went shopping together once. Yeah, guys do go shopping together sometimes too, you know.

I'd barely gotten my socks on by the time there was a rapid knock on the door. I bolted from the edge of my bed, with one sock still hanging off loosely on my foot and answered the door. Sarah was standing there looking as pretty as ever, dressed tight fitting jeans, sneakers, a black t-shirt and a cardigan pulled over that. She obviously didn't take as much time and effort to consider what she'd wear than I did. Here eyes were wider than usual, an expression of slight surprise upon her face.

"I didn't think this was going to be a fancy occasion," she said, scratching her head. "Great, now you've gone and made me feel underdressed."

"Well I've already got this on," I said. "You wanna head out now?"

"Absolutely not," she replied. "You're getting back in there and changing. I'm not going to have you look better than me on our first night out."

"Oh … alright," I said sheepishly.

She leaned into me and sniffed. "You look good though," Sarah said. "I like the cologne too. You should keep that."

"It's not like I have a choice …"

She ran her hands up and down my shoulders and gently turned me around and gave me a light shove, pushing me back towards my room. "Come out with something frumpy."

I shut the door behind me as I climbed out of my clothes, grateful that she was allowing me – no, forcing me – to put something a little less showy on. Sure, the outfit looked nice enough, but it wasn't something I was used to. If we ran into anyone we knew at the theatres, they'd know for sure I was trying to impress her. And she hadn't even lifted a finger to impress me. Sarah probably already knew she had me. Either that, or she believed that being true was the best way to get someone to love you. If the latter was true, then I could've fallen in love with her right there.

"Where's Julie and the others tonight?" I asked through the closed door.

"They're recovering from yesterday," Sarah replied from the hallway. "Luanne drank too much again, as usual. Which confuses me, actually. I thought you only got her one pack last night."

"I did. But she probably just swallowed someone else's alcohol being the drunk she is."

"Oh God, tell me about it. How were you this morning?"

"I was …" I paused for a moment, remembering what happened to me this morning. I rolled out of bed as the entire room was still spinning. I didn't even remember how I'd gotten home that night. My head was pounding, my mouth was dry and my breath stunk like alcohol. I'd spent a good chunk of the day drinking cup after cup of water, eating healthy food, and peeing like a dog in a meadow of fire hydrants. "I was fine," I lied to Sarah. "How about you?"

"I didn't have too much to drink last night," Sarah replied. "I was the designated driver, so I spent most of the night watching how ridiculous everyone acted. I even had to calm Phil down on a few occasions so the neighbors wouldn't call the cops on us. I swear those jocks …"

"You must've had fun," I noted sarcastically.

"Well the cops ended up coming anyway," she said. I felt my heart skip a beat. That means they would've seen me in my drunken state, which meant someone must've reported it to Chief Irons, which meant … "Don't worry, you're safe," Sarah continued, interrupting my thoughts before I could've thought up the worst scenario. "Two of the officers said they knew you and they wouldn't tell anyone anything."

"Who where they?" I asked, my curiosity peaking.

"I dunno," Sarah admitted, "All I got were first names, Amber and Kevin." Officers Ryman and Bernstein. Of course they would be the ones to keep a secret for me out of the entire police force. Officer Ryman had admitted to me himself that he sometimes took advantage of the substances they'd confiscate from kids, and we'd caught Officer Bernstein drunk off her ass in J's Bar the other day. The three of us had dirt on each other. If one of us went down, with wouldn't be too hard to pull the others down with us.

"Were there any arrests?"

"No, just a reminder for us to keep it down. I think they were on patrol. We couldn't have been loud enough for the neighbors to complain. Houses are built so far from each other, given the amount of garden space in between them, and not everyone drives so there's no way there were enough cars for audio systems to be blaring. Are you done changing yet?"

I stepped out of my room as soon as she finished her question. She took a quick look at my new outfit – red T-shirt, jeans, sneakers and a white baseball cap. "Better," Sarah said in approval.

**XXXXX**

After the movie – which was so awesome I have to tell you about it, but it would take up way too much space – Sarah and I headed for the diner for a quick meal before calling it a night. We were talking excitedly about the movie, like when the blonde bimbo who looked a lot like Julie was running from the monster. She would throw anything and everything in its path but would somehow always miss the creature. And instead of jumping out the window to escape and only suffer a few scrapes and bruises from a two storey fall, she chose to run higher and higher up into the attic, where she was cornered and therefore screwed. That's when the hero came in and rescued her.

"Fuckin' bitch deserved to die," Sarah scoffed. "Humanity could do better without such stupidity in their ranks. It's like really – two storey fall and suffer minor injuries, or run higher up and get eaten by the monster?"

"Into a windowless attic, nonetheless," I added. "I swear, if we were ever put in a survival horror situation like that, I bet you we'd be able to survive no problem. Come on, we took on a pack of dogs with textbooks."

"God, I know," Sarah said, "there's more than one way out of a situation like that, especially if it was just one monster chasing you. Could you imagine if …"

She suddenly stopped talking.

"Sarah, what's …"

"Shh!" she interrupted, holding her hand towards me. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" I asked. This was getting a little freaky. We'd just come from a horror movie, so the adrenaline was still pumping strong through our bodies, and the last time we were together, we were nearly mauled to death by a pack of rabid zombie dogs. I prayed this wouldn't be a similar situation.

"It sounded like someone talking. "

"We're in the middle of the city," I reminded her, "there's bound to be people talking everywhere." Then I took a good look at our surroundings and noticed for the very first time that we were alone. It was a Sunday night, and of course most people would be in bed early for the workday tomorrow, but that didn't mean the streets should've been deserted. There was absolutely nobody around. The streets were eerily quiet, with only a gentle breeze blowing through them, carrying a few sheets of discarded newspaper. It looked as if we were the only living beings on earth.

And then I heard the voice. I sounded like a weak, distant moan – a whole chorus of them, actually. The sound seemed to come from nowhere, but everywhere at the same time. Sarah and I turned our heads to try and pinpoint the source of the sound, but were unsuccessful. I'd never heard this sound before. It sounded like it was coming from within in the city limits just going by the volume. But it was low and soft enough to not be in the immediate area.

A chill made its way through my body. The photo I saw of the zombie flashed through my mind, then the dogs that attacked us a few days ago. "Let's hurry up," I suggested, "I'm getting the creeps." Sarah didn't argue as we picked up the pace towards the diner.

**XXXXX**

The smell of fried bacon made our mouths water upon stepping into the eatery. It was nice and warm in here. I'd expected the air outside to be equally warm given the late summer heat, but lately, it's been a little cold for some unknown reason. Maybe we were getting closer to the fall season? The diner was warm and inviting and we were seated by a striped uniformed waitress accordingly, menus handed out to us the moment our asses touched the seats.

There was a photo of huge steak with eggs brandishing the cover. I glanced at the price, surprised that it only read 6.99. That was definitely some quality steak right there. I was in the mood for a soup and a sandwich, given the aforementioned cool air outside.

"If you could get me the soup and sandwich combo number three," I asked Sarah, "if the waitress gets here before I get back. I'm just going to the washroom. I think I had too much pop back at the theatre."

"Sure," she smiled.

I got up from my seat and headed to the back of the dining area, where the hall turned right towards the washrooms, indicated by the stick man and woman stuck just over the doorway. On my way, I noticed Officer Chris Redfield, my smoke buddy from the R.P.D. hunched over some papers with one hand gripping a cup of coffee as he read.

"Chris?" I asked.

His head snapped up and he looked at me with these dry, red eyes. It looked like he hadn't slept in days. "Oh, hey Kenny!" he said, trying to sound excited but the energy was gone from his voice.

"I haven't seen you around the precinct for awhile," I commented. "Just wondering what happened to you. And to run into you here of all places!"

"I'm on a little vacation leave," he said. I took a quick glance at the documents he'd poured so much attention into. I remember seeing a low quality faxes with the Umbrella logo on some of them. So was this how he spent his vacation? Reading the promotional brochures of a pharmaceutical company?

"You're supposed to be somewhere warm, and sunny where it never rains," I said, "so what are you still doing in town on your vacation?"

"Just … doing some research," he replied, eyes darting back and forth looking for some kind of explanation, or lie, I should say. I knew he was up to something. Ever since coming back from the Bravo rescue mission, none of the S.T.A.R.S. members had been the same. Deciding I didn't want to interfere with whatever business they were attending to, I didn't pursue the matter and just went along with Chris's lie.

"There was something I wanted to talk to you about," I said, changing the subject. "I know you feel Raccoon City isn't a safe place to be right now, and I know I promised you yesterday to leave this place as soon as possible. But the problem is – I don't have anywhere to go outside of the city. I could put up for awhile at a youth hostel but how long do you expect me to be gone?"

Chris shrugged. "I don't know, and I don't really care, either. Like I said earlier, any place is better than being in Raccoon."

"You're talking like this is some life or death thing," I commented. "All we're talking about is a temporary relocation and …

"I think it is. Life and death, Kenny. We're pretty sure some serious shit is going to hit the fan soon, excuse my French, after what we've discovered. Nobody at the station believes us, but after what you've been through, I know you do. That's why I'm urging you to get out before its too late. I don't want you getting involved in whatever the city's got planned for you. So it's better to leave early before things really start getting dangerous. The murders are increasing everyday."

"Did you hear those …" I pointed outside into the distance, thinking about those unearthly moans Sarah and I heard just before reaching the diner. Chris nodded, looking dead serious. I didn't have to specify what sound I was referring to for him to understand.

Chris nodded his head, cracking his knuckles nervously against the table. "They're getting close," he said distantly, almost to himself. I nodded in agreement, staring out as he did into the streets which were strangely almost deserted, although it wasn't so strange anymore. Thoughts of more cannibal murders happening ran through my head. They could be happening right now as we spoke nervously, safe in the diner.

"Were they really zombies, Chris?" I asked, "like, the eat-human-brains, crawl out from the grave kind?"

He looked up at me from his seat, brows furrowed looking like he was about to cry, like he had no choice but to say yes to such a childish question. His Adam's apple jerk up and slid down, as he swallowed a dry wad of spit.

"Be a good kid," he said, "and leave town as soon as you get the chance, okay?" He gathered the papers into a neat stack and got up from his seat, tucking the pile under an arm. "I have to go now. Have yourself a good night. Do you need a ride home? I don't think it's too safe wandering the streets anymore."

"No, I don't live too far from the station."

Chris took out a pen from his breast pocket and scribbled something down on the back a sheet of paper. He handed the sheet to me and gave me a nod to take it. "It's my cell phone number," he said. "The moment you're done here you're your girlfriend …"

"She's not my girlfriend yet."

"…I want you to call me to pick you up if you can't arrange a ride with someone else. And if you manage to, call me anyway."

"Chris, I really appreciate this but you don't have to …"

"Do it."

"Yes, sir."

**August 13, 1998**

The last couple of days were spent in a constant state of euphoria. Despite the fact that Chris had embarrassed me by bringing both Sarah and I home last Sunday night, I still somehow managed to hold onto some dignity when Chris let me out of the car to walk Sarah up to her porch. She pecked me on the cheek, a goodnight kiss and told me what a great time she had. I hadn't forgotten that moment, and I don't think I ever will. Chris elbowed me playfully when I got back in the car. There was definitely going to be news about me traveling throughout the police station staff, despite my best efforts to stay out of their gossip.

I walked into work on this Tuesday afternoon after a tough morning of classes. I was reaching my required hours of work experience, and now I was beginning to slow down a little, going into work fewer times a week. Rita wasn't at the desk in the main hall. As I headed for my work station, I saw a note with the required tasks to be done for the day – signed by Rita. Apparently she was down with a cold and wouldn't be at work today, which was fine. I knew enough about running the main desk to be okay on my own. The first item on the list that needed to be checked off – deliver the doughnuts to the S.T.A.R.S. office.

The yellow box sat just a few inches from my reach. They must've gotten two dozen of those things as usual, but after taking a second look, I noticed how much smaller the box was. Did it say … one dozen? That's not right. They usually liked twenty four of those things, with a decaf and bold brews, never mild brews. I'd been delivering the same thing to their office for all these months and … right. There were only four remaining S.T.A.R.S. members of the Raccoon City unit now. How could I forget? The thought saddened me, as I imagine how empty the office must've seemed now, with just Officers Redfield, Valentine, Burton and Chambers occupying such a huge space.

As I headed through the west wing of the station, twisting and turning through the corridors with a tray of doughnuts in one hand and two jugs of two different coffee brews in the other hand, I noticed someone come tumbling down the stairs, head over heals. I watched, squinting my face in sympathetic pain as the poor soul fell, until I realized he was heading towards me. At that rate, he was going to topple me over and with two jugs of piping hot coffee in my hands, the result wasn't going to be pretty.

He hit the bottom of the staircase with a dull thud, milliseconds after I'd jumped away. He was a large man, in the rotund sort of way. His left eye was red, and bruises were already beginning to form from the red marks on his arms and face. One of his lips was busted and was beginning to bleed bright, fresh red blood.

"Elran!" I cried, dropping the tray but somehow managing to hold onto the coffee jugs. I set those down on the floor and went to help the elder man with the bushy mustache, now lying bruised and battered on the concrete floor. He fell two stories, rolling the whole way down two flights of stairs. He was a member of the Boy's Crime department, a real jolly man who reminded me a bit of Santa. Never in a million years would I expect somebody as happy-go-lucky as him to be hit by anyone.

I noticed Chris standing at the top of the stairs on the second level, looking down angrily at he fallen man a whole storey below him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" I heard a female voice yell. She ran into view beside Chris, sounding hysterical. "What's going on with you, Chris?" she asked. I was still standing there in shock that he would do this to someone.

"Officer Valentine," I said. I don't know what I was trying to say, my mind was so frazzled, so confused. I knew I should've helped Elran but the way Chris was looking at him scared me too much to move muscle. Officer Valentine looked down from the balcony at me and smiled gently.

"Kenny, can you please make sure Elran is alright?" she asked me. Turning back to Chris, she started scolding him in an audible whisper. But he just winked casually at her and walked away, leaving her standing there, gaping in awe at his attitude.

I bent down on one knee and placed my hand on Elran's chest. There was a heartbeat so I knew he was still alive. Well of course he would be alive. He was young enough that a fall like that wouldn't kill him, probably just break a few bones or something. I wasn't trained in first aid, how was I supposed to know? I was trying to help him and criticizing myself at the same time.

Elran coughed once and placed his hand on mine. "I'm okay, sonny," he said, waving off his injuries like they were nothing. "Let me just get to the bathroom to get cleaned up."

"But … are you feeling up to it?"

"Oh, don't you worry about me. There's a lot of fat on this body to keep me well cushioned." Elran let out a jolly chuckle as he tried to sit up.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry for what Chris did," Officer Valentine apologized as she ran down the stairs to Elran's aid. "I swear, he can be so irrational at times, always acting on impulse."

"Oh, it's not his fault, Jill," Elran said. "It was mine. I was walking by and I didn't watch where I was going. I bumped into Chris as we were rounding a corner and accidentally splashed him with some hot coffee."

"That sounds like an honest mistake to me," I noted.

"It most likely was!" Jill added. "I'm so sorry, Elran. I'll make sure Chris gets a good talking to, don't you worry about a thing. Let's get you to the first aid station. We keep a couple of first aid sprays around the corner in the photo lab, here. Can you help him out, Kenny?"

"Uh, sure," I said. "If you could take these to the S.T.A.R.S. Office for me …" I motioned towards the coffee and box of doughnuts.

"Actually," she replied, changing her mind, "maybe you better get that up to the office real quick. I'm sure Chris will be needing something to cool him down a little. I'll take care of Elran."

I looked at Jill and hoped to God she was joking with me. After seeing what Chris just did to Elran, the thought of visiting Chris in the S.T.A.R.S. office with nobody to accompany me was terrifying. The least she could have done was offer me a handgun for protection or something! Noticing her disgruntled expression at the thought of Chris, it dawned on me that sending me in her place was more for her sanity than my safety. She didn't like she wanted to even look at Chris right now, focusing her attention instead on Elran.

I bent down and picked up the tray of doughnuts and the pitchers of coffee with more than a little trouble. Amber, from seemingly out of nowhere, rushed in to help me.

"Here, Kenny, let me help you with those," she said with a kind smile on her face. She noticed my fear, and I wanted her to come up with me. But on second thought, if she did, that would justify everyone else's actions in patronizing me, whether they meant to or not. If I couldn't take a freaking tray of doughnuts and coffee upstairs by myself, what did that imply about my abilities? I couldn't let Amber help me so I shook my head vigorously at her offer.

"It's okay, I can manage," I said, trying to shrug her off nicely.

"Are you sure?"

"Really," I nodded with a grateful smile, "I'll be fine. Though I think Officer Valentine might need some help with Officer Elran. He fell down the stairs and he …"

"…took a pretty nasty tumble," Amber concluded for me. "Yes, I saw what happened. Go on, Kenny. You run those upstairs and I'll go give Jill a hand."

So I did.

"You're a fucking moron," my brain screamed at me as I turned around and headed up the stairs with tray and coffee jugs in hand. "You're going to get yourself killed. Do you want to see Sarah again? Do you want the future you're working so hard towards at school? Then don't go see Officer Redfield!" I was thinking all this but my feet betrayed me, climbing those stairs one step at a time. If there was at least one time in my life that my mind and body were working as two separate entities, that was it. And it continued this way up the two flights of stairs, past the statue holding the red gem, and though the doors that led to the S.T.A.R.S hallway.

The door to the office was ajar. And without any hands, I had to nudge it open with my foot, forcing the door to creak a little as I made space for myself to enter. I couldn't knock anywhere to let him know I was coming in so I cleared my throat. The voice I spoke with was so shaky, so uncertain, I'm even afraid to admit it.

"U…Um, Officer Redfield …" He was hunched at his desk with his head in his hands, not even noticing my entrance. "Um, Marvin told me to bring these and …"

"I told you to LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!!" With lightning reflexes, Chris seized the mug lying on his desk, the one with he got custom made from Jill from a little while ago, with a picture of the two of them on it. He threw the mug and it came flying directly at me, growing rapidly in size as it came closer to my forehead.

I can't explain what my mind was thinking next, but I remember the doughnut tray and coffee jugs vanishing in my grip. My eyes squeezed shut and my knees buckled. There was a loud crash of the mug hitting the wall behind me, raining shards of glazed porcelain on the back of my neck as I crouched downward. Then it felt like my hands and knees were on fire. I realized then I dropped the doughnuts and the coffee, spilling the fresh burning brew on myself.

When I opened my eyes, I was flat on my ass on the ground, my clothes and limbs scorched with coffee. I was looking up at Chris, his bricklike fists clenched, his face beet red with rage, a vein popping in his forehead. I scrambled backwards to get some distance between me and this crazy monster, a S.T.A.R.S. monster to boot, but my back came into contact with the wall leaving me no place to go.

Chris seemed to notice who he was talking to then, because the rage in his face disappeared, replaced by fear or regret, I couldn't tell. A tense moment of silence fell, both of us looking at each other; him wanting to say something to curb my terror, me waiting for him to get it over with and kill me as quickly and painlessly as possible.

"Jesus, Kenny … I'm so sorry - "

He took a step towards me and held out a hand, which when I look back now, was probably meant to help me off my feet. But I didn't think it then. I saw the notion as a threat, and with the adrenaline pumping in my veins, leapt to my feet and scrambled out of the room like a bat out of hell, running as fast as my legs could carry me.

"Kenny, wait!" I heard him call, but I didn't listen. I was so focused on getting out of there that nothing anyone said would have registered. I dashed out of the S.T.A.R.S. hallway, past the second level corridor and flew down the stairs like I had wings on my ankles.

**SMACK!**

I'd run straight into Amber who was just making an exit from the dark room. I tried to continue running past her, but she held me firmly by the shoulders and tried to calm me down.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, where's the fire today, Kenny?" she said with a cheerful voice, completely oblivious to what had just happened to me. "Come on, there's already been on accident around here today – you don't want to cause another one, right?"

I wanted to tell her what just happened; to tell her why my clothes were soaked and burning me, why my forearms were red and starting to blister. But I didn't want to get Chris in trouble, so I just pulled my sleeves down to hide my wounds and clenched my teeth.

"Sorry, Officer Bernstein."

"That's okay, Kenny. Just take it a little slower, that's all. There's no rush. Hey, I know you like it here, but I've never seen anyone _that_ eager to get back to work before! You put any more enthusiasm into your work and you'll explode."

I managed a weak smile, thinking, "If only you knew, Officer Bernstein. If only you knew …"

I stepped towards the door to the briefing room hallway and prepared to turn it. I knew they kept a can of first aid spray in the drawers in the waiting room and so I made that room my next destination. But before I could leave, there was something I wanted to clear with Amber.

"Officer Bernstein?" I called.

"Yes, Kenny?"

"I saw Chris just now and he's really mad about something." Yes, and I wanted to ask her what it was, because after the second degree burns I had just received, I felt like I deserved an explanation. Yet, I didn't to jeopardize my future at the precinct by ratting Chris out so I avoided mentioning it. Instead, I continued on a different route. "I don't know what, but what happened just now with Officer Elran, that wasn't an accident, was it?"

Amber hung her head for a moment and then looked directly at me. "No, Kenny, I don't think it was." I almost leapt in surprise. Not because I thought it was an accident; I knew well enough it was on purpose. I was surprised because Officer Amber Bernstein was being frank with me; something I never expected any of the officers in the building to be. She continued.

"But please don't go spreading that around. You're a high school student and I'm sure you know how much damage gossip can cause. I'm not expecting you to lie, or to keep secrets on someone else's behalf, because honesty is important. I just don't think that mentioning this incident will do anybody any favours, least of all Officer Elran. Nobody likes being reminded of their own misfortunes, especially the painful and embarrassing ones. You're a sensible kid, and I'm sure I can rely on your discretion. Right?"

"Right," I nodded meekly, agreeing with her.

"Thanks, Kenny. Have a good day."

"You too, Officer Bernstein."

Finishing with her, I made my way to the waiting room, finding it oddly empty, and found the little table tucked into a corner of the room. I opened up the drawer and found the can of first aid spray, and went back through the door into the archive room, where they kept records on criminals and other offenders. I knew there wouldn't be anyone there to ask what was wrong as I applied the antiseptic spray. But soon enough, before I could enter, I bumped into Marvin.

"Hey, where you headed to, kiddo?" he asked, nudging my shoulder.

"Oh, Bernice just sent me to grab a file for her," I fibbed.

"And she gave you a can of first aid spray to do that?"

"… um … yes."

Marvin caught my lie and cocked a brow, eyeing my coffee stained clothes suspiciously.

"Is everything okay, Kenny?"

"Yes, everything is fine," I replied so readily, it sounded almost defensive.

"Okay …" Marvin conceded. It didn't really look like he believed me but he took my word for it. "Well if there's anything you need, just let me know, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now run along." He knuckled the top of my head before sending me on my way, and turned the corner and disappeared from my point of view.

I opened the door to the archive room, stepped inside, and shut the door silently behind me. Finding a cardboard box to sit on, I rolled up my sleeves and applied the spray to my burns. The skin was starting to bubble with white pus underneath, and the surrounding area glowed bright red. The contact of the spray with the burns produced a sharp, stabbing pain that I dropped the can, and grasped my arm, biting my lip so hard, I drew some blood.

My eyes were closed as I tried desperately to breathe, hot tears running out from between my eyelids and down my face. It had taken a minute or two for the burning to subside, and I sat waiting for it to, though it felt much longer than that. The burning faded but for some reason, my sobbing hadn't. The shock of Chris's fury was beginning to sink in and I realized it was more than just the physical pain. It was the realization that I had done something terribly wrong.

I fucked up royally today. I got a S.T.A.R.S. member so pissed at me, I almost got a concussion for it. But I didn't understand. What did I do wrong? I knew Chris was already in a bad mood, but what did I do to send him over the edge like that? Would they still hire me after what I did today? Should I just quit tomorrow and stop coming to work?

I didn't come up with any answers at that moment. All I knew was that I needed a moment to myself; my arm blistering and leaking, my free hand covering the wound, the tears drying on my face, the mucus running from my nose, and the empty first aid spray can lying at my feet.

**XXXXX**

**August 17, 1998**

Recent reports of strange creatures entering the city seemed to send the S.T.A.R.S. members into a paranoid trip. Yet nobody around them took them seriously. Marvin and Rita were perplexed, but never really gave their stories the light of day. They both seemed to be stuck in their realistic ways – zombies and monsters do not exist. I wasn't as sure anymore, given the recent events. Sure, the zombie photograph might have been created by someone who was really good at photo manipulation. I've seen some talented artists online. But then there was the old lady that came into the precinct the other day, covered in blood, muttering about how a bunch of people started eating her husband alive. Then there was the attack on me and Sarah, by those rabid zombie dogs. Finally, there were those moans that Sarah and I heard the other night, the very same moans that Chris confirmed. Sure, I sound like someone with an overactive imagination unless you take into account those events.

Today was one of those days where the reports came flooding in more often than usual. Rita was a little confused, and she couldn't explain it herself, and I was reluctant to even bring up the mention of monsters around her. But that's how the witnesses described the creatures. Something was yelling at me to get the hell out of the city, but I could never live with myself knowing that I'd be leaving all my friends and co-workers to die at the hands of these strange monsters. At the same time, if I so much as tried to mention them to anyone, Chief Irons would be on my tail for sure. Not to mention people would likely scoff at me and lock me up in the loony bin. I was stuck with my heart telling me one thing, and my conscience telling me something else.

"It was this strange monster with no skin," one lady had said.

"Dogs that were more aggressive than usual," accounted another.

"A giant bug that gave off an incredibly loud hissing noise, like pressure being released from a pipe."

There was no end to the description of these monsters supposedly lurking the streets of the city. All I'd manage to see were the dogs so far, but if zombie dogs didn't exist, then none of these creatures should have either. And if they could exist … I didn't want to think about it. But report after report came filing in, worrying me with every mention that Rita had to take me aside to see if I was alright.

I decided to take the afternoon off from work, after what had happened during my morning shift. I was on my way home from school, still pondering the events, wondering at the same time why there were less and less people walking on the streets. This had been going on for some time now. Maybe they were too afraid by the stories, maybe they were as paranoid as Chris and the others. Maybe they were eaten …

NO! I refused to believe that. The climbing rate of missing people couldn't be ignored though, and neither could the reports. What was behind all of this? Chris had some answers, I was sure of it. But why wasn't he giving me any answers? Why was he so adamant about having me leave the city without a good explanation? Why weren't the cops doing anything about this? Was Chief Irons really that successful at quelling the public panic? Did he honestly thing that ignoring the problem would make it go away?

"What's going on, man?"

The speaker's voice startled me, making me jump a few feet into the air while I let out a horrified scream.

"Chill out, it's just me, yeah?"

Jack Carpenter. I'd recognize that voice around any day.

"Jack," I said, catching my breath, "what the … what are you doing outside of class?"

"Forget that, I got some stuff to take care of, know? You be lookin' like you seen a ghost or somethin'."

"Why are you talking to me?" I demanded. "I thought we established that as long as we stay out of each other's way …"

"Stop being such a dickhead," he snapped. "There's stuff I gotta talk to you about."

"Like …?"

"Like what you said to Lisa at her party. She told me everything."

"Christ, Jack, if you want to start a fight about that, this is really not the time. I've got bigger things to worry about."

"Look, man," I just wanna make peace with you uptown people, okay?" he said, holding up his hands defensively. "And at this point, you be the only one who gimme the time of day. The other day, your buddy Phil an' his cronies came downtown lookin' for trouble an' I be tellin' ya I don't want none of that shit. I already told you I be doin' nuttin' to Lise, okay?"

"I know that," I replied. "I don't know what's going on between you two, or who to even point fingers to. Our problem is Lisa has completely ditched us for you. I don't know if it's just some phase she's going through or she never really liked us to begin with. All I know is, the Lisa we've come to know and love these past few years is gone, and she left right around the same time she met you."

"Kenny, you an' I can both agree Lise is a sweet girl. If you want, I can talk to her, find out what's goin' on in that lil' mind of hers. But all I'm askin' is that you let me be, an' maybe we can help each other out with our issues, yeah?"

"I'll talk to Phil," I agreed. "Holy shit, Jack, DUCK!"

Something large and black was headed straight for us. I pounced on Jack, pressing down with my full weight on his shoulders. He hadn't braced himself for the impact and the both of us collapsed to the ground like a house of falling cards, the black projectile grazing my hair as we fell. As it flew by, I felt the brush of feathers against my scalp and the squawk of some demonic bird. I shot a glance over my shoulder to make out what the hell that thing was, only to see it make a loop and head back for us.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jack screamed, but then he saw it too, as the bird came around for a second strike. His eyes widened in panic. The psychotic bird – which I could now tell was a crow or a raven – came and dive bombed us in reckless abandon for its own well being. We both instinctively rolled in opposite directions, not having the time to even get back to our feet, and created a wide enough space of pavement between our bodies, curled up protectively. The crazy thing flew right into the sidewalk head first, the impact crushing its beak, traveling down its broken body with a wet splat. I felt debris hit my arm, but paid no attention to it at first.

Jack and I scrambled to our feet and looked at each other in awe. "What the hell just happened?" he asked.

"That bird tried to kill us," I stated simply, unable to believe the reality of it all. "I thought they usually flew away from unless we were near their nest or something."

"I don't see any bird nest around here," Jack said. He gawked at my arm, pointing a shaky finger. "W…what the hell is that?"

I looked down at it and crinkled by brows in confusion. "That's not right … this is the bird's blood."

Then Jack looked down at the pavement and backed away slowly, shaking his head. "That don't be right either, man." The crushed body of the raven, now flattened against the cement was surrounded by its own blood, the same stuff that was on my arm. The only problem is the blood didn't look fresh. It had a brown, rusty tinge to it instead of the bright red color of freshly spilled blood.

"It's like the bird was dead long before it even attacked us …"

"Don't think too hard," Jack said, looking up at the sky. Simultaneously, a chorus of shrill cries filled my ears. I looked up and over towards the eastern horizon when I saw it. There was a massive flock of ravens heading towards us, so many of them that they almost painted that area of the sky completely black. Judging from the clear flapping of their wings and the size of their shapes, they were only a few city blocks away and would be on us in an instant.

"Back to the school," I ordered, spinning on my heels. Jack was already a step ahead of me, sprinting in the direction we just came from. It was only a block back to the school. Thank God we hadn't wandered far. But was it close enough for us to make it inside on time?

"Move it, Kenny!" Jack called over his shoulder. "Run!"


	12. Chapter 11: Conflicts and Fairytales

**HHoD:** As promised, the epilogue of my first RE fic, "World of the Undead" has been re-written to suit the latest developments of events in Project Lucifer. Actually, I wouldn't really say rewritten. I just added a scene and fixed a few sentences to make everything fit nicely.

**Astral Slayer: **Yeah, go ahead and use Kenny.

**E-Z B: **Ooh, now THERE'S an idea I'm gonna have to steal from you! ;)

**XXXXX**

Jack and I bolted back to the school as fast as our legs would allow. He had a skateboard tucked under one arm – and for the first time in my life, I was thankful for the thing. We always used to make comments behind his back – and sometimes to his face about bringing it to school. It made sense, really. He lived quite a distance from our school. The only school in the downtown area was a private institution called St. Michael's Catholic High, one that his guardians were too poor to afford. I shouted for him to use it.

"One," he replied, "I ain't leavin' you here to fend for yourself against these things. And two, those things will be on us by the time I get some good speed on this thing. Runnin' is the best way, trust me!"

He wasn't going to leave me to fend for himself? I was touched, especially after everything I'd done to him since he came to the school. But faced with such a perilous situation, petty rivalries became just that – petty. And I wasn't expecting him to zoom off and leave me. That skateboard could've fit the both of us easily … right? How the hell was I supposed to know, I've never skateboarded in my life. Then I noticed the piece of tape wrapped down the middle of it, remembering that Phil told me he'd snapped the thing. I cursed Phil silently in my mind as we continued for the school. My lungs were burning by now, and a quick glance backward revealed that the birds would be on us in a few seconds. The front stairs were within sprinting distance. We were so close to safety!

I noticed a drunk man, a bum, actually, who emitted the most horrid smell I'd ever come across, wandering aimlessly in front of the main door. The steps he took her small and lazy, his toes barely leaving the ground. He seemed oblivious to the murder of crows approaching quickly, despite their loud cawing and deafening flap of their collective wings. Well if he wanted to get pecked to death, he could go right ahead. I bolted past the man and nearly gagged as I got a sniff of his body odor, the full brunt of it as I'd only been a foot or two away. As I darted past, I could've sworn he reached out and tried to grab me, but in the confusion of everything going on, I couldn't be sure.

Jack stopped and grabbed the man's forearm, and tried pulling him into the school with us. "Please sir," Jack said, "you've got to come in with us!" I swear he did it just to make me feel like a bad person, convincing the drunk guy to come in with us while I happily left him for the ravenous crows. But instead of following Jack into the building, the bum leaned forward and almost fell into him, as if he was trying to knock him over. Jack lost his balance and stumbled onto his rear on the ground.

I was holding the door open now, waiting for Jack to follow, but instead, I saw him wrestling on the ground with the strange, smelly bum on top of him while Jack struggled to get to his feet. The bum bent his head down, jaws wide open while his victim screamed in horror, moving his head aside to avoid the vicious bite meant for him. Noticing that this guy, whoever he was, was clearly not on our side, I ran back out and delivered a swift kick to his head.

"Get the hell off him!" I screamed, seizing Jack by the collar and hauling him inside the building. The flock of crows were so close now, the breeze of their flapping wings blew my hair into ripples. There was no time for Jack to get back on his feet. He kicked at the first birds to approach us while I pulled him into the building, past the bum who was now rising slowly to his feet, and slammed the door shut behind us.

The swarm of birds were pecking at the window set into the metal doors, smashing it so hard with their beaks that they were splattering it with their rust colored blood. To our horror, a few of the birds had begun pecking the bum, ripping bits of flesh off his body. I wanted to look away but was frozen with terror at the sight. Even stranger was the fact that if the stranger felt the pain, he wasn't screaming. Hell, he wasn't even paying attention to the birds attacking him. Instead, he walked right up to the window that Jack and I were looking outside from with that same slow, lazy walk and started beating against it with open palms.

"Holy shit!" Jack cried. We both stumbled backwards with fright as the thumps against the door got harder and harder.

"What the fuck is wrong with that guy!" I said, pointing a shaky finger.

"You know if he pulls the handle on that thing …"

"Shit!" We both made a dash for the door, seizing the handle and began pulling with all our might. If he pulled on it from the outside, it would open and he would get in. We didn't know the hell this bum was on, but one thing was for sure. We weren't going to let him in with us. There was something hostile about him – aside from trying to bite Jack. There was something about him that made our skin crawl. He was comfortable – way too comfortable being in the company of those crows.

"What in the world is going on out here?" somebody cried from behind us.

"Mrs. Bietelbaum!" I cried, noticing her. The ruckus had caused class interruptions, and I knew Bietelbaum didn't like interruptions, second to her number one pet peeve, late students. "Get the principal!"

Our history teacher put a hand to her mouth and gasped in terror, having the same reaction Jack and I did when we saw the man getting pecked to death by crows. Only it didn't seem like he was dying, unless he was already dead … I took a look at his skin – a sickly gray, but he looked nothing like the zombie in the picture at the precinct. He just looked … drunk, really.

"Let the man inside!" she demanded.

"No way!" Jack protested. "The guy tried to bite me! I ain't lettin' some loco come in here and …"

There was the smashing of glass, and a strong hand came through the window, seizing my wrist. Little glass cubes fell all over us, but it was the hand that worried me the most. It had a powerful grip and as strong as it was, the hand was cold and stiff. Revolted by the touch of this bum, I reared backward and screamed, lifting a leg up and stomping down hard on his forearm and fingers. I scratched my own arm with the bottom of my shoe, but I didn't care at that point. I just wanted to break a few fingers so he'd let me go and run away crying. Then again, if he wasn't feeling the crows devouring him as the stood there trying to devour us, I'm sure he couldn't feel the impact of my foot against his arm.

Jack had let go of the door and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, struggling with all his might to pull me from the sick bum. But our combined strength wasn't loosening the grip, not to mention I felt like my arm was about to be pulled from its socket. Then in a split second, I caught a glimpse of a large, brick-like fist come crashing down on the bum's forearm, and heard a loud, audible snap that rang in our ears. I suddenly felt the grip loosen on my arm and I was yanked backwards by Jack, who hadn't realized what was going on either.

We were sent crashing to the linoleum floor, all over the little cubes of glass. That goodness that was tempered glass or we could've ended up with far more serious injuries that just a few bruises. Looking upwards, I saw Mrs. Bietelbaum rooted to the spot in the exact same position she was in when she first noticed the bum and the crows. Standing by the door was Phil Barrett, a baseball bat in his hands, waiting for the bum to reach in again so he could smash whatever appendage came through the windows. A big guy like Phil was intimidating enough unarmed. I shuddered to think of the damage he could do when armed with a baseball bat.

A crow tried flying through, but its spread wings made its body too wide to fit. It was stuck there, cawing at us as it tried to get closer, but yet was unable to move forward. Phil took the opportunity to strike, swinging the baseball bat downwards onto the skull of the bird, knocking its head off clean.

"We've got to seal off this window!" he cried. "Mrs. Bietelbaum, get a table or something to prop up against the door. Jack, Kenny, both of you help her! I'll keep these things busy!"

"There!" Jack said, pointing at a student art display just beside the grand staircase that led to the upper level. Mrs. Bietelbaum and I followed in suit, clearing the table off all the sculptures with one fell swipe, hearing them crash to the ground in shards of baked clay. It hurt my heart a little, actually. I'd always been a fan of art, but now was definitely not the time to appreciate it. Even with the three of us lifting the table in a joint effort, the thing felt like it was made of bricks. Might as well have been, the tough table, definitely good for holding up all those clay sculptures. Jack, Mrs. Bietelbaum and I huffed and puffed as we bought the thing over to the door, where Phil stepped back from his post, helping us prop the table up against the door. Mrs. Bietelbaum's eyes were wide, her lower lip was trembling in fear, and her round face was pale with fright. Despite that, she managed to be more of an asset to our little makeshift team.

"I demand to know what is going on," she finally said when we'd propped the table in place. "Who is that psychotic gentlemen outside with all the birds around him?"

"Ain't no gentlemen, that's for sure," Jack said.

"That's the same guy that tried to take a chunk outta me earlier this morning," Phil said, rubbing his arm as he looked toward the door, now boarded up by a giant art table.

"He tried to bite you?" I asked. "How long has this guy been hanging around out there?"

"I don't know," Phil replied, shrugging. "This morning he was sitting in the same spot, scratching himself. I told him to go see a doctor and he agreed. But when I gave him my hand to help him up, he looked at it and then just went for it like it was a piece of steak or something."

"Did he manage to draw any blood?"

Phil shook his head. "I pulled my hand away and decked him in the face the moment I felt his teeth on my skin," he replied. "Then he said sorry and walked away, holding his face. But now it looks like he's some kind of fuckin' cannib..."

Something had clicked in all of our heads at that exact moment. "You don't think he's got something to do with those murders, do you?" I suggested.

"Then we must inform the authorities immediately!" Mrs. Bietelbaum declared. "Remember now, children, what did the man look like?"

"Overgrown beard, wool cap," Phil said.

"Gross yellow fingernails and torn jeans," Jack continued.

"Missing a right shoe and smelled like shit," I added.

"Do you think he's still outside?" The four of us looked towards the door, noticing that the noise beyond it had stopped and all was quiet once again, save for the yapping in the class that Mrs. Bietelbaum had left.

"I'll call the police right now," Phil said, digging his cell phone from his pocket.

**XXXXX**

**August 20, 1998**

"Chief, I really think you should take into consideration everything that I've said so far." Never in my history of working with the Raccoon City police department did I ever imagine that I'd ever be this straightforward with the chief. But his actions – or lack thereof were really beginning to frustrate me. These strange incidents were becoming a regular occurrence and he hadn't lifted a finger to investigate it, let alone stop it. The citizens of the city, whether they were from uptown or downtown, we were all in trouble and left to fend for ourselves while the chief of police sat on his fat ass and stuffed his face with doughnuts all day.

"I've already given you my reasons for my actions," Chief Irons replied, chewing the last bits of a chocolate doughnut with the crumbs stuck to his thick mustache. "And I told you I don't want you leaking any of this to the public."

"It's kind of hard when these attacks happen to be IN public!" I insisted. This was getting ridiculous. I had Chief Irons on one hand pretending like nothing was going on, and Chris on the other who knew what shit was hitting the fan but was refusing to tell me. I was so angry, at Chief Irons, and Chris, and at myself for not knowing what to do, I swear I could've quit on the spot, taken Chris's advice and left the damn city to its fate. But I didn't. Damn conscience.

"I've said it once, and I'll say it again. Forget about what happened." Chief Irons could have repeated that all he wanted but I wasn't going to accept that. And if the other citizens of Raccoon knew just what his approach to the matter was, I doubted they would either.

"As a tax paying citizen of this city, as a victim of not one but two attacks, of all people in this goddamn town besides the next of kin who've already died from these attacks, I deserve to know what's going on more than anyone else in town! We have the right to know if it's safe to continue living in the city. Why are the streets deserted on usually busy days? Why do we hear strange moans at night far off in the distance? Why normally gentle animals suddenly aggressive and attack every breathing thing in sight? Sir, I have not come to talk to you as Kenny, the high school volunteer who works hard for free eight hours a day. I'm visiting you as a civilian, one of the people you and the entire police department are meant to protect. And I want some answers."

The chief didn't respond. Instead, he stuffed a hand in his pocket and brushed his mustache with the other, standing up from his desk. His calm demeanor intimidated me, but I had a point and refused to be shaken by his authority.

"Very well, Kenny," he said, nodding his head slightly. "You want an explanation?"

"Yes, sir," I said quietly. Great, there went any form of integrity I had established.

"Umbrella Pharmaceutical Company has been running illegal biological tests on creatures with the intent of creating weapons of mass destruction. The creatures have escaped from their secret labs in the Arklay Mountains following the explosion of the Spencer Estate and are now terrorizing the city."

Anger rose in my throat. Did he take me for a child? What was this sorry excuse for a horror story? He was belittling me, tossing away my worries away, making up some childish fairy tale to shut me up. A pharmaceutical company who creates cough syrup, first aid sprays and band-aids creating biological weapons of mass destruction? I couldn't contain my anger anymore. And exploding in front of the chief wouldn't have been a good idea if I wanted to keep working in the precinct.

"Does that answer your question, Kenny?" he asked, leaning forward, resting his weight on his palms as he closed the distance between our faces with his.

"Crystal," I said through clenched teeth. "Thank you for your time, sir. I need to get back to work."

"I'm sure I need not show you the way out."

**XXXXX**

After my little confrontation with the chief, I walked out of his office feeling a little foolish. I was sure that I'd been doing the right thing, but the way I just accepted his excuse for an explanation must've totally confirmed what he thought of me – a mere child working for an organization far bigger than I could ever hope to climb the ranks in. I spent the rest of the work day being ultra submissive. I wanted my co-workers to know that I was a dedicated worker, walking about with my head hung low, calling people by their official terms. I wanted to prove that I could one day be an asset to the team. Perhaps I'd gotten too comfortable that I'd forgotten my place.

The summer heat was getting the better of me. I felt sleepy and nauseous at the same time, and the police precinct, being made practically of windows, didn't do anything to intensify the heat. I walked down the hallway, past the statue holding the red jewel and down the corridor to where the S.T.A.R.S. room was. In my arms, I held a silver tray in one hand with boxes of doughnuts of all kinds – chocolate dip, maple dip, long johns, sprinkled … In the other I had a huge pitcher of coffee about twenty five percent of my height. It weighed my arm down to the point where my shoulder was starting to cry out in pain by a series of throbs.

I opened the door to the S.T.A.R.S. room, albeit with a little difficulty with my full hands. The overwhelming stench of body odor assaulted my senses as the S.T.A.R.S. members ran about the room in a frenzy like nobody's business. I headed over to Captain Wesker's desk at the head of the room. Since his death at the mansion, the S.T.A.R.S. members have been acting a little differently. I expected them to show some remorse. I mean Wesker was a cold guy, but you'd think that working in such close quarters with someone will form some kind of bond between the both of you, right? It felt as if I was the one to be most affected by his death. The only person kind enough to help me out was Rebecca, the nice rookie of the entire group.

"That looks heavy," she said, taking the coffee pitcher from me.

"I can handle it," I said, grasping back for it. Rebecca only rolled her eyes.

"Boys…"

"Hey! How's my favorite little tike?" Chris asked, simultaneously rubbing my head, thus crushing it into my shoulders with one hand, grabbing a doughnut off the tray with another.

"I'm okay, Mr. Redfield," I replied.

"Tch, Mr. Redfield," Chris scoffed. "I told you, I want none of that formality bullshit."

"Oh, let it go, Chris," Jill called from her desk as she waved her hand. "Kenny's just being polite, like any respectable prospecting police officer should be." She turned her attention to me. "You have any mail for me this morning, hun?"

"Yes ma'am," I replied, walking over to her desk. I reached into my shoulder bag and pulled out a stack of envelopes, handing it over to her. Jill sifted through her mail quickly, pausing as she got to a magazine. "Playboy August edition, huh?" she asked, raising her eyebrow at me.

"Oops, I think that belongs to Mr. Redfield."

Chris overheard and choked, a nice chunk of chewed up doughnut flying from his mouth. "Ah … put that on my desk, heh heh."

"Yes sir." I walked over to the table adjacent to Jill's and placed the magazine onto the table. I reached back into the shoulder bag, looking for more mail with Chris's name on it and placed the enveloped on the table. However upon turning around, the shoulder back scraped some stacks of paper off his desk, scattering them all over the floor. I instinctively crouched to the ground and gathered them as fast as I could. "I'm sorry."

I never saw Chris move so quickly in my life. He dashed over from the doughnut pile on Wesker's desk over to his and began helping me sort out the papers. "Don't worry about it, kiddo, let me handle this one."

"But I …" that's when I saw what he was so worried about. I held up two plane tickets in my hand. I hardly had time to take a good look at it when he viciously snatched them from my grasp. "Sorry, Kenny. Classified information. You didn't get a good look at that, did you?"

"No, sir."

"Bullshit."

"Yes, sir. You're leaving for France in a few weeks. How come? I didn't record any vacation leaves this month, at least none from the S.T.A.R.S members."

"This is a top secret mission, Kenny," Jill explained calmly. "Nobody is supposed to know about this, not the police officers, not even Mr. Irons himself. So please, don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

"I won't."

"She means it, kiddo," Chris said, grabbing me by the shoulder and wagging his finger at me. "Do not tell ANYBODY."

"Yes, sir."


	13. Interlude: Civilization's Last Breath

**Author's Note:** I would like to take this moment to declare IT'S MY BIRTHDAY TODAY! You can snail mail your presents. No stupid gifts please. Something that'll be useful like money or a job. Lol, just kidding! As my birthday gift to all you wonderful reviewers, here is the next chapter! But this isn't an ordinary chapter – from this point on, things will start getting more intense. More deaths, more scary surprises, zombie and monster dodging, and it's about time too, considering this is a Resident Evil story and there's been very little of that so far. I'm just trying to build up the suspense. So if I were to divide this story into "acts" then you can consider this the opening to act II of the story. Enough of this talk. On with the show!

**XXXXX**

**August 24, 1998**

"Hey don't look so down, kiddo," Chris said, lightly socking me in the shoulder. "I'll get to the bottom of this. Barry and I will find out what's going on in Raccoon and fix the problem once and for all, then you can come back and continue living like nothing ever happened." He took a puff of his cigarette and exhaled.

I stared down at my own lit cigarette, not exactly in the mood to smoke it right now. "You're leaving today," I said glumly. "I didn't think I cared that the S.T.A.R.S. members were leaving for Europe but now that they were actually going later tonight, I started to feel down. Whether it was because of their safety or that I would miss them, I don't know. All I knew was that somewhere deep down between by tar covered lungs, there was a feeling of dread in my heart. "So who's going to take their cigarette breaks with me now?" I joked, but that was the least of it.

"We'll be back," Chris assured me, "but just because I'm not here, that doesn't mean I'm not holding you to your promise."

"I'm leaving town," I said, "I just have to finish up the last of my volunteer hours first, then I'll be safe beyond the city limits."

"That's what I want to hear," Chris replied, taking another puff. "Take as many people as you can with you."

"Nobody believes me."

"Hmm … that's to be expected I guess. Nobody believed us either."

Yeah, and I was one of those skeptics. Although I doubt I was as skeptical as the others at the precinct. At least I was open to the idea of zombified, if not, zombie animals, which meant that I would even dare say I believe in zombie people. But at this point, I wasn't sure.

"What exactly have you found in Europe?" I asked. "I mean, you don't have to tell me if it's classified information, but if you're going all the way over there to risk your life …"

Chris looked alarmed at my comment. "What do you mean I'll be risking my life? How would you know that?"

I shrugged. "Well there's enough shit going on around here that all Raccoon's citizens are in danger. Those monsters don't discriminate when it comes to attacking people. That old lady that came into the precinct covered in blood, the remains of hikers discovered by the river, the attacks occurring downtown, and now uptown – I was even attacked twice. At this rate, the whole city …"

"You were attacked twice!" Chris nearly screamed in shock.

"Yeah, the other day at school."

"And you haven't left town yet?"

"Not yet, but soon."

"Kenny, my kid sister who's not too much older than you, she already bitches at me for breathing down her neck the whole time. I don't want to have to do the same to you. But at this rate, you're leaving me no choice! Look …" he sighed and toned down the intensity of his voice. "I know you have a better idea of what's going on than most of the city. Even if we tried telling the others, nobody would ever believe us. But you have no excuse to not listen to me."

"I know, I know," I replied, putting a hand up for him to stop his lecture. "Just a little while longer while I wrap up my hours at the precinct."

"I don't want to come back to find you dead," Chris said.

"You won't," I promised.

"Jill will be staying behind another couple of weeks to continue her investigation here. I want you to get out before she does. I'll leave word with her to look out for you."

"She'll probably be too busy to keep an eye on me. I don't want to be anyone else's burden. I can take care of myself. Come on, Chris, I'm not a kid."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "You're fift…" But he stopped himself.

"I'll be outta here before she leaves. I'll be safe."

I look back now and think what a stupid claim that was. My stay in Raccoon City would be MUCH longer than anticipated. I had no idea what that place had in store for me. No fucking idea …

**XXXXX**

"Oh, we fucking kicked that bum's ass," I heard Phil bragged in the middle of the busy cafeteria to a group of girls – more specifically, Julie's groupie. Luanne, Mary and Leonie were all staring at him with glossy eyes as he energetically related the story of what happened to us last week, throwing his hands arms in every direction to add drama to the tale. He had all of weekend to relate it to his friends, but not the rest of our grade class. Sarah-Lee, on the other hand, looked mortified, holding a hand over her mouth. She was clearly the only one who was really listening to Phil's story, having gone through a similar event herself. "But I got rid of him before he could do any real damage." He smiled, revealing a straight row of pearly white teeth as he flexed an arm, showing off an impressive bicep.

"Wow, Kenny, Jack and Mrs. Bietelbaum must've been so lucky to have you around," Leoni sighed.

"Well they would've been toast if I didn't come to the rescue," Phil bragged. "The bum had Kenny by the wrist and was threatening to pull him out through the doors, probably even bite him like he tried to do to me earlier that day. So I broke his hand – um, the bum's hand, I mean."

I approached the group with a tray of cafeteria food in my hands and plopped myself down with them. "Okay I think your head's getting a little too big for your own good," I said.

"Well maybe next time I'll just leave you to get eaten alive then, hm?" Phil said with a smug smile. "Admit it – you were glad to see me."

"Well I would've been relieved to see anybody at that point! When some bum's got you by the arm, trying to pull you outside with a bunch of carnivorous crows …"

Phil tapped his fingers impatiently against the surface of the table.

"I hate to inflate your ego," I admitted to Phil, "but …" I had to swallow my pride and just admit it to myself. If it wasn't for Phil, Jack and I could be zombie food by now. "Thank you."

"Aw, don't worry about it, buddy!" Phil interrupted, wrapping his arm around the back of my neck. He pulled me down to waist level with surprising strength and buried his knuckles into my hair – the same hair that took me hours to gel this morning. "Here's the you're-welcome noogie!"

"Ow, ow, stop fucking – OW!" I protested, my arms flailing uselessly in the air as I struggled to release myself from his grasp. Phil released me when he thought I'd gone through enough. I held up my head, now completely red and my hair was tangled mess, a decrepit shadow of the half hour gel job this morning.

"Ravenous dogs," Sarah whispered almost to herself, but we could all hear her clearly, "eerie moans, and now we have rabid crows and cannibal bums. Something really fucked up is going on around here." She looked at me with her pretty hazel eyes and smirked. "And they all came after you."

"Coincidence?" I suggested.

"Most likely," she replied. "People are getting killed all over town. At least now we know what's killing them."

"Vicious animals, and downtown bums," Phil nodded. "At least the mystery's been solved. Now we just have to figure out what we can do about it. I hope the police are now downtown questioning every single fucking bum in that poverty hole."

"Throw them all in jail," Mary piped in.

"Hell, build bars around their whole damned sector," Luanne added.

"Oh yeah," Phil said, tapping me on the shoulder. "How did the meeting with your chief go? You told him our story directly, right?"

I shook my head in response. "He's not doing anything about it," I replied, hanging my head in defeat. "I threw every good excuse I could think of but he just kept telling me to forget about it. So when I finally demanded some answers, he made up some fairytale about the Umbrella Corporation creating monsters and zombies and unleashing them on our city."

"So that's what Lisa's parents have been up to," Phil joked, holding his hands by his ears, fingers curled into claws. "They've been making boogie monsters … GROAR!" Sarah rolled her eyes at him, but I was content simply ignoring him.

"What's up, dudes," someone said, making a place for themselves at our table. It's been awhile, Kenny. I haven't seen much of you since Lisa's party."

"Oh hey, Justin," I replied. "Been busy with stuff, you know?"

"Getting attacked by monsters and the whole bit," Sarah added. "I'm starting to wonder if anyone else had school has had any encounters besides us."

"I haven't," Justin admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "But you guys been hearing those crazy voices at night?"

"Yeah, the zombie moans," Phil agreed, nodding. "I hear them too. I wonder why there haven't been any news stories on them in the paper."

"It's just freaky that we don't know where they're coming from," Luanne said. "Sometimes it sounds like they've got the city surrounded, like they're all over, you know?"

"Oh, listen to you people," Julie interrupted with her lunch tray in her hands, pink purse over a shoulder. She looked down at the table to find a spot for her to sit, but ended up glaring at Justin and cleared her throat.

"Oh, sorry," Justin said, scooting over as Julie found a place beside him.

"Talking like little children telling ghost stories," Julie said, ripping open a milk carton. She dropped a straw in and began sipping the beverage. "There are no such things as cannibal people, at least not in this part of the world. There has to be some logical explanation for this."

"Way ahead of you, Jules," Phil said, "we all know there's a logical explanation. But that doesn't hide the fact that people are eating each other. You haven't seen this yet, have you?" Phil held his hand out, palm down and Julie gasped. There were bite marks in it – not deep enough to have broken the skin, but the area was pretty badly bruised.

"That is disgusting!" she said, rearing back in horror. "Who did this to you?"

"A suspected cannibal killer that Kenny and I fought off the other day."

"We called the cops after," I continued, "but they weren't able to find him."

"It's weird," Sarah-Lee added, "when there's murders happening all over town but not even a single perpetrator has been caught."

"That's just barf," Julie scoffed. "That looks pretty bad so maybe you should go get it checked out. But if this is some pathetic cry for attention, then you're doing a pretty good job."

"And you'd be a damn good judge of that," Phil retaliated.

The eight of us sitting and chatting noisily at the table suddenly piped down, the moment Jack and Lisa walked by. Lisa, the prim and proper uptown girl, one of the most popular girls in our grade hand in hand with Jack Carpenter, the scrubby new boy from downtown. They shot a few uneasy glances at us while he glared back at them. Julie looked like she was about to spit poison from her lips at the sight of the two of them together. Justin scoffed condescendingly at Jack while Phil pounded a fist into an open palm. Luanne, Leonie, Mary and Sarah grouped around Julie and just stared Lisa down.

"Taking your dog for a walk?" Luanne asked Lisa with a sly smile creeping across her face.

"It's her new best friend," Mary added. "But you better be careful, Lisa. Kenny and Sarah were just attacked by a pack of Jack's friends the other day. Watch out that he doesn't turn on you."

"Cut it out," Lisa snapped, walking angrily up to our table. "It's moments like these that I remember why I ditched you all in the first place."

"Girls," Julie said, raising a hand. Her groupie ceased their chatter in an instant. "Lisa is my best friend, and I would appreciate it if you didn't speak to her like this." She turned back to Lisa, staring deep into her eyes. "And I doubt she would ever talk about me like that."

"Yo' but you be tryin' to say, huh!" Jack demanded, suddenly coming in between Lisa and Julie. "If Lisa says anythin', it be 'cause you don't stop talkin' about her. An' you guys call her your friend?"

"This ain't your fight, pretty boy," Justin said, pushing Jack away from the group. He fought to keep his balance, but never lost a strand of dignity as he stared back defiantly at Justin.

"I don't think he's learned his lesson yet," Phil said, standing up behind Justin, towering over the both of them. "He might need another beating."

"For Christ sakes!" I cried, unable to stand the petty tension anymore. "Justin, Phil, you fuckers back the hell off. Phil, you're forgetting Jack helped us with the crows and that bum. We could be dead if he hadn't helped us. And Julie! I thought we fixed things at Lisa's place. Why are you trying to start up shit again? If out of some prepubescent fascination she happens to decide that a new boy is better than all her loyal friends, then she's too immature to deserve any form of friendship from us! So if she wants to be left alone, I say that's not too much to ask of us."

"Gee, Kenny," Julie said, rubbing the back of her neck nervously, "I didn't think you were that passionate about the situation."

"Yeah, aren't you the guy that's trying to keep things civil?" Phil asked, pointing a finger at me.

"Am I not trying to do that right now?" I replied. "Phil I know you're desperately looking for a fight after that attack got the adrenaline pumping in our blood. But eight against two? Is that the only kind of fight Phil Barrett can win?"

Phil shrugged and sat back down. Justin lingered for a few seconds longer, trying to stare Jack down but it was apparent that wasn't going to work, so I grabbed his arm and pulled him back into a seated position at the table.

"Lisa," Julie said after the awkward moment of silence, "I don't listen to the girls, and forget about what Kenny says. It's not important that they don't understand how our friendship works. But I do." Lisa stared at her feet, head hanging in guilt or remorse – I'm not sure which, but verbally, no other words were exchanged between her and Julie. She took Jack by the elbow and they left us.

Tensions were rising now, and more emotionally charged comments had been fired between us and Jack and Lisa they've ever been. There was always an uneasy air with our relationship with Lisa, but nobody ever said anything to each other. In fact the day Julie approached me and threatened me to change Jack and Lisa's relationship was the first day I actually had verbal confirmation that their friendship had gone awry. As for me, the friendship I shared with Lisa began to decline on that day and we didn't exactly leave on a good note. If I had the chance, I would've gone back and changed things, knowing that was one of the last times I'd ever see her – or anybody else – alive.

**XXXXX**

**More Author's Notes:** I also forgot to mention something. I would like to direct any of my readers who aren't already aware towards Hyperactive Hamster of Doom's story, entitled "Resident Evil: Project Lucifer." This plot in this story is 95 original by me, but character relationships and most of the OC's who appear in this story are heavily borrowed from that story. While you're checking out her work, also make a stop at "Resident Evil: Double Amber" which is, in HHoD's words "a companion fic" to this story.

While I'm promoting other people's work, also please take the time to check out "Resident Evil: The Price of Normalcy" by Desertcross4. Isaac, who made a few appearances at the beginning of this story, is borrowed from that fic. Desertcross4's work is worth a good read and I highly recommend that story to anyone who isn't reading it already.

Lastly please check out E-Z B's "Darkness Arises". I have plans to incorporate his character Jake Cavanaugh later in this story. His writing style is much different than a lot of others I've seen – a lot of fast action that really gets the adrenaline pumping, but he slows down when necessary to give us readers a breath.


	14. Chapter 12: New Faces

**Author's Notes: **Eric Rawlings and David McGraw are property of E-Z B. Both these original Raccoon City Police Officers make their debut in his fic, "Resident Evil: Tale of the Unknown Survivors." Thank you, E-Z B for letting me use your characters. They will make awesome contributions to this story.

**HHoD: **I just thought that by having Kenny see the dark skater as well, it would prove further that the Dark Skater was not a figment of Jack's imagination, and that there was some merit to the legend. Glad to hear that it worked for you. I was stuck on what to write for this chapter, hence the hunk of re-written material from your story ;)

**E-Z B: **Yeah don't you love how Capcom is pretty bad with the gaps in between the RE games? I personally can't stand it, but I guess that gives us fanfiction writers something to do so I can't complain too much.

**Al Diggs: **Umbrella Rekindled is on temporary hiatus right now, as I try to gather inspiration for that story. I enjoyed RE4 but now I realize it's not one of my favorite RE games. In fact, I realize that if the series continues in its current direction, I won't like it anymore! Anyway, I'll be updating that fic sometime in the future – just not right now.

**JbabeJanice: **Thanks for your support. Jake Cavanaugh will be included later on in this story, but after talking to E-Z B, we've reached the conclusion that it'd be better if Jake wasn't too integrated into this one. He'll be here, but he just won't play a huge part.

**DaveyXHardcore: **I would love to go back and correct my little mistakes. But at this point, I don't know what they are and you didn't mention them to me. Also, it wasn't Chris, Claire, Rebecca and Barry who were fired. It was Chris, JILL, Rebecca and Barry. Secondly, they weren't fired according to Capcom – they quit and/or left, and I refuse to take into account exhalted fanfiction such as S.D. Perry's Resident Evil novels as official Resident Evil documentation. Same goes for Paul Anderson's movies.

**XXXXX**

Jill sniffed as she took another puff of a cigarette in a sad attempt to stop crying. She hoped a smoke would calm her down. At least that had been what she claimed before bumming one off me. The breeze chilled our skins as we sat smoking on the helipad. My duties were waiting for me down in the main hall, but I didn't feel right just leaving Jill to herself, on her last day as a S.T.A.R.S. officer. Besides, she looked like she could use someone to talk to.

"Thanks for coming up here with me," she said, sipping coffee from her paper cup. "And for bringing those doughnuts. I'll probably gain five hundred pounds by the time I get home, but they were worth it."

"It feels so empty in the office now," I noted, "such a big space, only one person to occupy it."

Jill nodded in agreement, exhaling a pure white plume of smoke. "I miss them already. Their belongings are still there, right where they should be. But Barry, Chris and Rebecca are gone. Serves me right for volunteering to stay behind, huh?"

"You … you're having regrets?"

Jill shook her head. "No, but the S.T.A.R.S – at least, what's left of us – are going through some pretty tough times, fighting an uphill battle, trying to uncover just what really went on in the mansion. We've discovered a lot more than we were expecting. And we know too much."

"Is that why you had to disband?"

"Answering that question would require giving you information you're better off not knowing," Jill replied sharply. "We're in a dangerous situation, Kenny, the S.T.A.R.S. and I don't want to put any innocent civilians at risk by telling you too much."

"The innocent civilians are already at risk," I countered. "We're being killed off by monsters created by God knows what. Actually no - YOU know what, and you've got all the answers! We have a right to know, and by keeping this information to yourself, you're being no better than Chief Irons!" I felt a little guilty talking to Jill like that. She was a sweet girl, really, and didn't deserve this kind of treatment from me, especially given what she's already been through. But on the other hand, it was getting hard for me to keep cool about this. If the Chief wasn't saying anything, then fine. I could easily blame it on the fact that the guy was a jackass. But Chris, and then Jill? These were people who I trusted and even they were keeping it from me. How was I supposed to maintain a level head?

Jill looked at her feet guilty and then back up at me. "Just please, don't ask any questions …"

"And leave town," I continued, finishing her sentence for her. "Yes, Chris had told me a hundred times already. I give up." I stood up from my seat and tossed my cigarette butt on the ground, putting it out with a stomp. As I prepared to leave the rooftop, leaving Jill to finish her smoke by herself, she looked up at me with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, Kenny," she said. "It's for the best."

"I know," I replied tiredly. "I've gotta get back to work now. They're holding a tour for the new recruits and guess who gets to show them around?"

Jill smiled. "Don't go too harsh on the newbies," she winked.

"Ha, I won't," I said, laughing. "Sides, they could probably kick my ass anyway, with all that police training. Good luck, Jill."

"Like I said before," she said, wagging a finger at me, "this isn't goodbye. It's more of a 'see you later.' And we will be seeing each other later. Right, Kenny?"

I smiled at her and nodded. "Right."

**XXXXX**

"Good afternoon, recruits, and welcome to the Raccoon City Police Department. The purpose of this tour is to get you familiarized with the precinct, an environment which you will be working in hopefully for many years to come. My name is Kenny, and I will be your guide for today."

I walked down the row of officers-to-be, noticing the variety of faces present, handing them out booklets of stapled paper. It was a small group of four officers, three men and one woman. The lady was the first one I noticed, looking quite young and petite. She kind of reminded me of Rebecca, the poor girl who just came back from Bravo's failed mission, only this girl had long strawberry blonde hair tied into a bun, a smooth, pale complexion, small, pink lips and stood just an inch taller than me. The next two men were nearly identical, if not for their hairstyles and eye-color. The first was young with a stubble-less chin, long dirty blonde hair parted down the side, reaching down to his high cheekbones, and an energetic sparkle in his brown eyes. The other was blue-eyed, slightly shorter with short red hair, spiked up from his scalp, making him look taller than he actually was. The final new officer was the biggest of the group, standing a full head and a quarter over me. He was broadly built and a dark complexion suggesting a Latino or African background. His goatee gave him a more mature look than his peers, though his features told me he couldn't have been more than six or seven years older than me.

All four of them looked at me funnily. Of course they'd be confused – when in the world did four young officers stand tall and remain silent in the presence of a high school kid in tenth grade? Hell, they were supposed to be out there on the streets arresting kids like me! I was on a total power trip and I knew it. Might as well bathe in the status difference while I can. It was only a matter of time before they'd be ordering me around anyway.

"Well there are four of you," I said, scanning the attendance list, "so lemme just call out your names and determine who you are." I cleared my throat and began. "Anna Trudeau?"

"Yes, sir!" she said strongly, defying her gentle appearance. I was so startled by the force she used I actually jumped, earning me a mocked smile from the other officers. I frowned at them, effectively wiping away those smiles and continued.

"Eric Rawlings?"

"Yes, sir!" the redhead replied, more harshly than the first, but this time, I was prepared.

"Okay, I don't know what they told you but I'm not a captain or anything," I said. "Let's just drop the formality thing, okay? Good. Next – Jose Gutierrez."

"That'd be me," the big one said, raising a palm to shoulder level.

"And finally, Leon Kennedy."

"I guess I'm the only one left," he said, smiling, brushing a long strand of hair from his eyes.

"Okay, guys, if you open up your booklets to page one, you will see a map of the police station. Its sheer size is pretty intimidating, but once you figure out the layout of the building, you'll get to find out you don't need a map and compass when navigating this place. The only scary thing about it is the size. We'll begin by going through the west wing."

The tour went pretty smoothly, I thought. The group was led from the waiting room in the west wing, around the long hallways that wrapped around the entire west end of the building, through the evidence room, and finally ending in the west office.

"This is where you will be stationed," I explained, waving my hand around the room. "Your desks have yet to be assigned, but the Chief will find room for you. The lockers at the front end of the room there are meant to store your stuff, though it's popular among the officers to just use the underneath of their desks."

"Oh, you're not supposed to let out our dirty little secrets, Kenny," someone whispered in my ear. I turned to face the speaker who spoke with a mischievous tone, surprised to discover that it was indeed Amber Bernstein. The last time I saw the nutty officer with strawberry curls, she was drunk off her ass at J's Bar mourning the loss of her boyfriend, S.T.A.R.S. member Joseph Frost. But she was looking better now, around two months after the incident. I didn't know if she'd ever be able to recover from the shock of having her boyfriend die on her, losing the love of her life, but she's been slowly getting better day by day. It was good to start getting the real Officer Bernstein back again.

"Listen to the little guy talk so formally to the recruits," another officer said in good nature, slapping a hand cheerfully on Amber's shoulder. He was the one really helping Amber through her tough times with Joseph's death, Officer David McGraw. Well, all the cops were being real supportive of Amber, but it seemed to me like she enjoyed talking to Officer McGraw the most. In fact, I suspected she had a crush on him, but I don't have any solid proof. He was tall, standing somewhere over six feet, with a mat of wavy blonde hair on his head, looking like some kind of surfer dude in a cop uniform. He was young, at 25 years old – perhaps a little too young for Amber but if he was, she didn't act like it. "If I didn't know any better, Kenny, I'd say you're being the bully over here!"

"Officer McGraw, I'm trying to do some work here …" I said through clenched teeth.

"You'll have to forgive our Kenny," Officer McGraw said, approaching the new recruits. "He doesn't mean to have a stick shoved up his ass, but he's got a killer work ethic. Officer David McGraw, here! And I'm lookin' forward to working with the lot of you!"

"And I'm Officer Amber Bernstein," Amber said, moving up and down the line, shaking everyone's hand. "Kenny's an awesome worker here, and if he was getting paid, I'm sure he'd be making more than all of us." She rubbed a hand on my head affectionately.

Anna Trudeau, the girl of the group smiled sweetly at the scene, while Leon whispered over to Officer McGraw. "How old _is_ he?" I heard him ask.

"Thirteen or fourteen," was Officer McGraw's reply, "but he's doing a great job, don't you think?"

"Fifteen …" I mumbled in frustration, my eye twitching.

"Well we better let you guys finish up the tour of this place," Amber said. "You have a lot of ground to cover. It was so nice meeting all of you!"

I turned the group away from the lockers and led them back to the end of the office, the way from which we came, back to the evidence room. "It's time to check out the second floor of the west wing," I announced, after which we will have a short break and recommence with a tour of the east wing, and the basement levels."

**XXXXX**

We'd wrapped up the tour of the upper west wing pretty uneventfully, considering the officers were most excited about seeing the S.T.A.R.S. in their work environment. But I informed them, much to their disappointment, that the S.T.A.R.S. had just disbanded and were no longer an official part of the R.P.D. The only other pickup about that area of the precinct was the library, which was a full two-storey room filled to the brim with shelves upon shelves on books. The upper level was actually the third level, which led to the clock tower. Due to the age of that section of the building, the open gears, it was deemed unsafe for the general public and was promptly left off the tour.

I was having a cigarette by the main gate, remembering my last conversation with Jill just earlier today. It felt like the last time I'd ever see her, though she promised she'd help keep and eye out for me and Isaac. I didn't expect her to keep to the promise though. I'm sure as an underground S.T.A.R.S. operative, she'd be too busy tracking the mountain case and protecting her own ass from being discovered.

Amber and Officer McGraw looked at me on their way. They were strapping on their bulletproof vests on their way out off the property.

"We're going on patrol," Amber announced. "Good job on the newbies. We'll be back in a few hours so we'll see you later if you're still here."

"Thanks," I said, acknowledging the pair of them as they left. "Stay safe out there!"

"And quit smoking," Officer McGraw noted, nodded his head at my smoke.

"Yes, sir."

I continued puffing away as I noticed them walking out the front gates of the station, not exiting from the parking garage like they should have been. The situation in the parking garage was pretty bad. It was a small space, only being able to store a handful of vehicles, while the rest were kept in the back parking lot by the guardhouse, or spilling over the streets surrounding the precinct.

MY thoughts were interrupted by the screeching of wheels. A blue four door Mercedes pulled up in front of the building and out walked Julie Wilberforce, Justin Thomas, and Sarah Lee Robertson. What were they doing here, of all places? The bigger question was, what the hell was Justin doing with Julie? He just voiced his distaste for the girl the other day. I swear, he was just as two faced as Julie was sometimes.

"You guys …" I said, as they approached.

Julie rolled her eyes. "You should have been in class yesterday, Kenny," she bragged. "Lisa and her downtown dog were _totally_ flirting with each other in the middle of class. So I made a little announcement which Mrs. Bietelbaum just so happened to hear. Oh, it was priceless."

"I swear, Jules, you can be such a bitch sometimes," I noted.

"Well, only to people who deserve it," she replied, shrugging. "Anyway, there's a little social matter I'd like to discuss with you." In the midst of her speech, Justin sat down beside me and took a cigarette from my pack, lighting it up. I had to give him credit for being that smart though. Somehow, I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd decided to light a joint in front of the police station.

"Social matters such as …?"

"Lisa's birthday party is coming up," Julie explained, "and I'm throwing her a party at her house. I'd love for you to come."

"I don't know, I've been stepping up on the hours here so I can get out of town."

Julie, Sarah and Justin looked at me like I was crazy. "Why in the world would you want to leave town?" they asked.

"I just … I need …"

"You're not threatened by those weird murders, are you?" Sarah asked.

"Well, no I just …"

"God, Kenny, you so are," Justin said.

"Well I hope you can make it," Julie continued. "But in any case, we can still rely on your for the booze right?"

I sighed outwardly. "Fine …"

"Good, now that we've got that over with …" she said, ruffling her hand through the purse.

"I gotta be getting back to work soon, folks. Thanks for dropping by.'

"We're here to make a complaint," Julie announced, digging a newspaper clipping from her pink purse hanging from the crook of her arm. "As uptown Raccoon citizens, and thus the main salary payers of the R.P.D., I would like to voice my concerns at how the police force is handling the situation in the city."

"We're NOT handling the situation at all," I noted.

"Which is exactly our point," Sarah Lee said. "Show him the clipping."

Julie handed the paper over to Justin who came up to me and showed me the article they'd cut. "You're not going to believe this, Kenny," he said, "but this ain't a hoax. It was actually from the paper this morning."

I put my smoke out and read the words printed in dark lettering on the page.

_It has been suggested by members of the public that the growing number of suspicious looking people wandering the streets could be zombies. This is, of course, a ridiculous rumor that the Mayor and the R.P.D. have been trying to quash ever since August, when the R.P.D.'s S.T.A.R.S. squad returned from an assignment claiming that zombies were loose in Raccoon Forest and that they had been created by a virus in a secret mansion laboratory belonging to the pharmaceuticals giant, Umbrella Incorporated. Their claims have since been dismissed as hallucinations brought on by the trauma of the loss of several colleagues during the assignment … _

_Mayor Warren went on to declare that there are no such things as zombies, and that there certainly aren't any in the city. However, this has failed to stop the rumors that are spreading like wildfire throughout Raccoon City, including the story that the so-called zombies are somehow linked to the mystery virus that has already killed one person and left several others in a life-threatening condition. It is hoped that these rumors will eventually die down and that life in our town will soon return to normal. _

My mouth was frozen open in utter shock. I wasn't the only one out there believing the S.T.A.R.S.'s stories. I wasn't the only one considering the existence of zombies. And whatever Jill and Chris had been hiding from me finally came out in the open through this article. They believed Umbrella was responsible for the creatures. Umbrella ran the city. And that meant …

If Umbrella really was responsible for the attacks on the citizens in the city, it was natural that they wouldn't allow the R.P.D. to investigate because they practically ran the police! That's it! There were Umbrella employees working with the police department! There couldn't be another explanation for the department's inactions. All the pieces of the mystery were falling together so nicely, it was hard to conceive another possibility.

"Is something wrong?" Justin asked, noticing that I hadn't said anything for the last few seconds.

"I know," Julie agreed, "it's appalling, isn't it? Our city's finest telling children's ghost stories?"

"No," I said shaking my head, "just the opposite, actually. This is all making too much sense."


	15. Chapter 13: The Last STAR Fades

**September 10th, 1998**

The sun was shining bright on this particular day but despite its brilliant rays, the air was slightly chilly. October was going to be upon us soon, and so would the fall. The air was already cooling. It was still warm enough to be considered warm, but just barely. It was one of those days where walking outside in a T-shirt or a sweater made no difference to one's comfort level, or "fashion freedom" as Julie labeled it.

Deciding to stay out of the Chief's way, I took the day off work at the precinct and decided to focus on keeping ahead of the rest of my class in school. I was far enough ahead in my volunteer hours and if I was going to leave Raccoon early as I had promised Chris, I wanted to make sure I got all my work done so I could be bumped up a grade, take a few weeks off, and start the new year on the same plane as the rest of my friends. During those few weeks off, I would leave the city and return when it was safe, just like I'd promised Chris.

Mrs. Bietelbaum had given me the specifics of an upcoming history project and I planned to make a model depicting a scene from the civil war. Unfortunately the nearest toy store was downtown, which meant I had to bus down there after school to pick up the toy soldiers I planned to use, and head back uptown for home. That's when something incredibly eerie happened.

I was walking up the street from the bus stop, bopping my head to the latest tunes on my CD player and enjoying the nice weather. Across the street, I noticed one of the local skater gangs. Going by their clothing, their skateboards, and the fact that Jack Carpenter was with them, I figured they were the Street Rats. I promptly ignored them, well aware that as long as I was on their property, they could do whatever the hell they wanted to me. Knowing what the downtown kids were like, morality and the law didn't apply as long as I remained in their sector.

Suddenly a shiver made its way down my spine. It was as if I walked into a fridge. The air suddenly felt frigid, shocking both my mind and body. I don't know what made me do it, but I turned my head across the street and noticed a mysterious teenager standing there, in the middle of the road, dressed completely in black. This guy looked like a vampire, or one of those Gothic freaks obsessed with death and the occult, pale as a ghost with dark eyes, standing there behind a group of skaters. He was tall and lanky, dark hair contrasting with his deathly white skin. He held a black skateboard under one skinny arm and looked like he fit in with the rest of the crew which was why I found it odd that I was the only one noticing this guy while everyone else just moved around him without a second glance, as if he weren't really there.

Then I saw Jack, standing where he was, rooted to the spot with either fear or curiosity. It was hard to read his expression from this distance. Jack was looking at this strange individual and it became more and more apparent to me that they were in fact looking at each other, which meant I wasn't the only one seeing this mysterious skater. There was something enchanting about this guy. A part of my mind was captivated by his unusual visage, though my consciousness was still aware of my surroundings. But no matter how much I wanted to tear my eyes away, a part of me wanted to keep on staring. And of all the people on the street that oddly busy afternoon, I could tell that Jack and I were the only ones who stood motionless, trapped right where we stood by the image of this skater dressed completely in black.

The most horrific part came next. After staring at the skater for what felt like an eternity, he plopped his skateboard on the ground, stepped on it and skated away, weaving between people. As soon as he reached a corner – I know I might sound crazy as I tell you this now – he completely disappeared into thin air right before my eyes. I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes to make sure I hadn't gone crazy. Had I just seen what I thought I saw? Did someone really just vanish into thin air in front of me?

"Come on, Kenny," I told myself, "you're not going crazy." Sure, I now believed in zombie dogs and rabid crows. Believing in ghosts was only a matter of time.

I turned to look at Jack, who was now making his way over to one of his skater friends, seated on a flight of stairs leading up to somebody's front door. He sat down beside his friend and pointed to where that ghostly skater was standing. His friend looked at the spot, then back and Jack, and shrugged. Okay, so he didn't notice the guy. But Jack certainly did, and he wasn't the only one. My curiosity was getting the better of me, and it looked like Jack's friend was explaining something to him, most likely about what he saw. I needed to get closer to them to hear the oral exchange. Not wanting Jack to recognize me as one of the uptown jerks that tormented him in school and have him and his friends beat the daylights out of me, I pulled the hood of my sweater over my head and stuck the end of a cigarette between my lips and lit it, simultaneously crossing the street. I shut off my CD player and crossed the street to where they were seated, but not close enough to raise suspicions.

"What did you say?" another one of the skater friends asked Jack. That was when I noticed that everything had gone dead silent – all the other skaters had stopped moving, now looking at Jack with the same expression on their faces as he had when he was looking at the ghostly skater. I continued walking across the street, perking my ears up, trying to pick up as much as I could.

"I just say I see this skater in all black," Jack explained slowly. He then looked up inquisitively at the others looking at him, confused by their reaction. "Why?"

"Bloody hell," someone commented within the group. The comment was iterated with such concern, such fear, that I had to slow down to a stroll, and I almost made it all the way across the street. And no pedestrian in their right mind would be crossing as slowly as I was. It was getting hard to not be noticed, being the only person in motion in sight. But they seemed captivated enough by what Jack and I had seen to not even notice me. And I had to find out why.

"What? What I say?" Jack asked, desperate for some form of explanation.

"It's the Dark Skater," someone else explained. All these people looked alike, it was hard to tell them apart. But the dark skater, eh? Who was he? What did this mean, exactly? The questions running across my mind were reflected on Jack's face, his brows wrinkled in frustration, curiosity and anger that his friends were taking such a long time to deliver an explanation.

"Who you talkin' about, Batman?" Jack asked. Batman? Was that one of the nicknames of his friends? Oh yeah, he was one of the guys Phil mentioned. Geez, and I though he was joking about the Batman nickname!

"You never heard of the Dark Skater?" yet another friend of his asked. Of course Jack's never heard of the Dark Skater or he wouldn't look so damn clueless right now! And hurry up with a fucking explanation cause I wanna know too! I wanted to scream at them to hurry for an explanation but I had to force myself to keep it all in. Just a few more seconds and perhaps a few more stupid questions before someone piped up.

"You sure you wanna know, Jack?" a girl asked. Yep, another stupid question.

"Yeah." A stupid question that did not deserve this reply that Jack provided.

"Okay," the girl continued, "you've heard of the PriMadonna's, haven't you?"

"Yeah, the best gang of skaters ever, right?"

Uh-huh. Anyway, ten years ago they had this amazin' skater guy, like the best one in the whole of Raccoon City. No-one had ever seen anyone like him before. His name was Dmitri Marovski, an' he was from some little village in Russia that no-one had heard of. Always wore black, so people called him the Dark Skater. Everyone thought he was gonna be the next Tony Hawk or somethin'."

Someone else piped in, continuing the story for her. "An' then the gang wars started. Another gang called Underworld started pickin' a fight with the PriMadonnas, an' unfortunately our friend Dmitri Marovski got caught in the middle. Shot five times in the head an' chest. Needless to say, he died pretty much instantly."

My blood ran cold upon hearing those words. I knew it, I just knew it – I was losing my mind. Zombie dogs, crows, ghostly moans at night, carnivorous bums and now ghosts. Somebody either kill me, or explain what the hell is going on in Raccoon!

"An' he died in this very street," another speaker added, "right over there by that fire hydrant."

"People say whenever someone sees the ghost of Dmitri Marovski, somethin' terrible will happen to 'em. Last time someone saw the Dark Skater, they got run over by an ice-cream truck a few days later. That was about two years ago, wasn't it?"

"AH!" I let out a pathetic yelp, realizing that I wasn't done crossing the street yet after hearing what I just did, making sure I was safely on the sidewalk before I stopped running. My little outcry bought me a few strange glances from Jack and his skater friends, but I just gave a nervous smile and continued on my way past them towards uptown. They paid me no attention and continued talking, but I'd heard enough, not wanting to stick around to hear anymore.

I saw the ghost of Dmitri Marovski, the Dark Skater. I would've normally passed the story off as an urban legend, but the pieces of the puzzle fit too well together. These skaters seemed to know what they were talking about, as they continued explaining it to Jack one after the other. Nobody's story conflicted, they all agreed with each other – it was all too perfect to be a lie. Besides, even if it was in fact a lie or a joke, I could see them telling it to me, one of the uptown kids, just to get some fun out of spooking me. But they were relating the story to Jack, one of their own! In fact, they barely noticed me walk by!

What in the world was going to happen to me? Maybe something bad was going to happen to Jack. I mean, the ghost was looking at HIM after all, not me. But they didn't say the ghost had to be looking at you for something bad to happen to you. Seeing the ghost was assurance enough …

**XXXXX**

**September 11th, 1998**

I walked Sarah to school this morning. It was clear to us now that the attacks were widespread enough for them to happen to anyone at random, uptown, downtown, anywhere. I didn't feel safe leaving her to talk by herself, and I sure as hell wasn't up to walking alone either, after seeing that strange apparition yesterday. I kept an eye out that day for any killer ice cream trucks, and almost froze in my tracks every time I heard their distant speakers playing "Oh I Had a Little Chicken."

"Allergic to ice cream?" Sarah asked, noticing my nervousness after I heard the music for the third consecutive time in ten minutes. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," I said. "I just had a long day yesterday and I don't think I got a good night sleep."

She smirked. "Good luck staying up in Bietelbaum's class."

We'd just stepped onto school property when Sarah let out a high pitched, girly scream of delight. She opened up her arms and into them flew Leoni, Mary, and Luanne. In a split second, she'd completely shed her calm, collected, mature exterior, the one that I was so attracted to, in place for the mindless valley girl mindset she required as one of Julie's groupies. The girls led her away by the hand towards Julie who was standing in the giant pool of shade under an ancient oak tree planted at the front of the school. She waved to me as I approached, but I let the gap between me and the girls widen.

"Got to second base with her yet?" someone asked, tapping me on the shoulder. Turning around to face the speaker, I noticed it was Justin, dressed in a yellow T-shirt, a matching backwards facing baseball cap and jeans, one strap of his backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Buddy, I haven't even gotten to first," I reported regretfully.

"Figures," he laughed. "It wouldn't be you anymore if you got any action."

"Shut up," I said, socking him lightly in the shoulder.

"Hey," Justin said, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "I just wanna thank you for what you did the other day, stopping the fight in the cafeteria and all."

"Why?" I asked cocking an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be pissed that you didn't get a chance to plant your fist in Jack's face."

"I think I would've been suspended or something," he admitted. "And at this rate, I'll fail the summer school semester if I get suspended anymore and my parents would've killed me. Ah well, there's always after school."

"In Jack's defense," I began, "I don't think now would be a great time to give him any problems." After what I saw yesterday and hearing what the other skaters had to say about the ghost of Dmitri Marovski, I assumed Jack had more than enough to worry about, if he was as paranoid as me, anyway.

"Hey Lisa," Sarah cried, "ditch the downtown puppy and come see this!" I looked at Sarah from where I stood, surprised that even at this distance, I could hear her. Justin made an annoyed face, as if the tone of her voice got under his skin.

"I'll never understand what you see in her," he said.

"Better than Wilberforce," I retorted, silencing him in an instant. Justin and I watched the group with an unspoken curiosity as they called Lisa over to them, noticing that she'd abandoned Jack at the front stairs of the school.

"The fucker's sitting in our spot," he growled through clenched teeth.

"Oh, you can just smoke up here," I said.

"Ah Lisa," Julie cried excitedly, "you managed to get away from your devoted doggy!"

"Don't call him that!" Lisa retaliated. "He's my friend, not a pet."

"Anyway," Julie said, ignoring Lisa's annoyance, "look at this!" She shoved a magazine clipping in her face and a chorus of delighted squeals followed.

"I've seen cuter."

"No way, no one's cuter than Matt Black."

Justin elbowed me lightly and tipped his chin at Sarah, who I only realized then was the one who spoke that last comment, and jealously flooded me. But the moment didn't last long as Justin and I observed the sudden decline in their civil behavior. We watched the whole time, eyes unblinking like the events unfolding before us were some kind of plot events in a horror movie.

"Although, that faithful follower of yours is pretty cute himself," Luanne said, resting an arm on Lisa's shoulder. "Any chance of a date with him?"

"Keep your damn hands off him, Luanne." Lisa suddenly slapped Luanne's hand away and prepared to storm off in fury. "He's already in love with someone else. Besides, the way you girls treat him makes me want to puke. You don't deserve a nice guy like him."

"Ooh! Sounds like Lisa's pretty fond of the downtown puppy herself!" Mary cried, clasping her hands together mockingly.

"What are you waiting for, honey?" Luanne added. "Go fetch!"

"He'll come running faster than you can say 'heel'!" Julie finished. But Lisa was already stomping off angrily. She wiped a hand across her face and looked to me like she was crying for a second, and I couldn't help but feel partly responsible. If I hadn't devalued her friendship in front of her and Julie and the others the other day in the cafeteria, perhaps they wouldn't have been as harsh.

"Bitches, aren't they?" Justin said, whispering to me. "I swear, the downtown dog might be a fuckin' loser, but at least he's forced Lisa to shed Julie and the others. They're all better off now, I say."

**XXXXX**

**September 15th, 1998**

"Who're the flowers for?" I inquired, unslinging my backpack off a shoulder, and into the chair at the front desk. It was a nice bouquet of flowers, a few big ones with yellow petals, some tulips, some white ones – a very peaceful color palette. They were wrapped in clear cellophane and placed neatly in a red weaved basket. There was a small card with some writing in blue ink attached, but I didn't read it despite my curiosity.

"They for Jill," Rita replied, never looking up from her paperwork.

"Birthday gift?" I asked. "You guys could've given her something a little more personal."

"She's quit."

My jaw dropped. "What!"

"She quit, Kenny. Jill's gone."

"But … wh … " I struggled to form my thoughts into words, "WHY!" I had an inkling that the S.T.A.R.S. reputation was going downhill, but I had no idea it would lead to this! And for it to happen so quickly … It then struck me how serious Chris was, the kind of shit he was dealing with. Whatever forces were against him, whatever they discovered up there in the mountains was strong enough to bring down the S.T.A.R.S. not just physically, but socially as well. How much more could that team take? First they lose half their members over a span of two nights, and the surviving members disperse, the respect they once commanded dissolving into mocking and laughter from their co-workers.

Then I remembered Chief Iron's little fairy tale about Umbrella Corporation behind all monster attacks. He delivered the facts to me so nonchalantly, and his tone was belittling like he was telling a child a horror story. The Umbrella Corporation was a pharmaceutical company who practically ran our city, so they would be the only candidates powerful enough to bring down a team as respected as the S.T.A.R.S. Yet, it didn't make sense that a company that made medicines would have much of a bone to pick with the cream of the crop police officers who protected the city – one of Umbrella's main North American branches.

Rita shook her head. "Don't ask me," she replied. "I have my own suspicions but I never bothered confirming them with Jill. The S.T.A.R.S. are not stupid people. They know the rumors about them floating around the precinct. They need our support if they want to get their point across yet nobody believes their story. But you can't expect us to believe such tall tales."

"Their tales are getting shorter within the recent weeks," I countered. If Chief Irons hadn't blown them off like he did to me, perhaps we'd be making progress. Perhaps Raccoon would be safer.

"I know," Rita agreed. "Maybe they weren't making the whole thing up. There might be a ring of truth to their stories."

"Given that the monsters have entered the city."

Rita looked over her shoulder and frowned at me. "I'd hardly use the word 'monster' to describe them. Perhaps they're a more violent breed of wild dog roaming the Raccoon forests."

"And those skinless monsters with claws, just another undiscovered species, I'm sure. And they only decided to go medieval on the citizen's asses as of … a few months ago? Raccoon's a pretty old city and …"

"Look, I'm sure there's a rational explanation for these creatures' existence."

"Right, and until we find out what that rational explanation is, we'll call them what they are. Monsters."

Rita gave up debating and returned to her paper work, scribbling violently on the pile of sheets in front of her with her pen. I swear I've had this same conversation with multiple people both at work and Justin and the others at school and to speak frankly, I was getting sick of people's refusal to believe in monsters. They were stressed to convince themselves that there was a rational explanation, their conscience fighting against their worst fears, and I was stressed trying to get them to believe me. What about the other people who were attacked? Where they being shunned by the people closest to them as well? And speaking of stress, Rita was stressed – and I've never seen her in that state before. Rita was always a hard worker who took her duties in stride. I wanted to ask her what the matter was, but as the scribbles got harder and faster, I decided not to approach her and start on my list of duties for the day.

After making numerous trips back and forth to the filing room, the photo lab and the evidence room, I decided to take a trip up to the S.T.A.R.S. office and deliver the remaining doughnuts from last week's order. They were old and stale, but they were probably the last ones the S.T.A.R.S. would ever get, considering their last active member in Raccoon City was leaving. I took the box in hand with a pitcher of coffee in the other and proceeded to the west wing of the building, preparing for the long walk ahead of me.

I got into the hallway that led to the S.T.A.R.S. office, a little startled at the silence. There was nobody here. I knocked on the door and heard someone permit me entry. I opened the door slowly and poked my head through the opening. The desks were a mess. Nobody had bothered cleaning up or even packing their belongings. It looked like Chris and Barry had just left in a rush to get out of the city. Chris's brown jacket hung on the wall while the surface of his workspace had paperwork tossed around. His drawers were half open, overflowing with pens, loose staples and paperclips, some of which fell to the floor at the foot of his seat. A dark green notebook, that I knew he used as a diary. I'd seen him writing in it many times before, his brows furrowed, the tip of his tongue poking through tightly pressed lips. And Chris was not a note taker, nor was he a writer in any sense of the word. That was the only thing left that the book could have been. I wanted to take a look in it, have a little gander at just what he was up to.

"Oh, hey, Kenny," Jill said, tearing me from my thoughts. I looked over at her desk, beside Chris's. Her face was red, and her cheeks appeared to have some kind of sheen on them, revealed by the dim lighting of the room. Were those the remnants of tears? Had Jill been crying?

"Oh no …" I said, settling the doughnut box and pitcher on the table to my left, right beside the fax machine. I sped over to Jill's side and hunched over, trying to meet her downward gaze, placing a hand on her shoulder for a physical display of emotional support. "Jill, are you alright?"

She rubbed a hand across the bottom of her nose and sniffed. "I'm going to be fine. Are those for me?" She eyed the doughnuts.

I nodded. "Yeah. There's nobody left to enjoy them in here but you, so I brought them up."

"That was sweet of you." She pulled me into a gentle hug which sort of surprised me, but then I decided not to think too much of it. After all, I was probably being the nicest one to her of the precinct staff. I understood the kind of horror she must've experienced.

"I guess now that all the S.T.A.R.S. members are gone or on their way out, Isaac's out of a job, huh?" I asked.

"I don't know what will happen to Isaac," Jill replied, shrugging. "But he's a good kid, not unlike yourself. You two just need to find a common ground. It's unfortunate you don't like each other."

"Gee, were we that obvious?" I asked with a mock tone of regret.

"I'll be keeping an eye on the both of you while I remain in the city," Jill said. "And I actually expect you two to be out of here before me. Chris asked if I could do that for him, but he really didn't need to. I would've done it anyway."

"Ah, Chris," I said nodding. "The ever over-protective big brother."

"Well his sister isn't around for him to over-protect. He's gotta unleash it on some unfortunate kid. Might as well be you and Isaac."

"Don't leave, Jill," I said suddenly, surprised at my own spontaneous words. Her expression softened.

"We should all be leaving," she replied. "This place isn't safe anymore, and I know you know it."

"Raccoon's all I have," I explained. "Where else am I gonna go? What else can I do?"

"Whatever you choose, it's better than dying here, right?"

"I'll miss you."

"Today is not the end. When we take down Umbre … When we accomplish our goals and get this mess in Raccoon cleaned up, you can come back. I know I plan on it, and so do Barry and Chris. So there's no reason you can't return here either."

"How long will it take?"

Jill shrugged. "Weeks, months, maybe even years. But it'll happen. You'll see. You'll come back, come home, and we'll be waiting." I nodded in agreement. No matter where I would go, Raccoon would always be my home in America. It was the perfect, quiet mountain community and I couldn't see myself living anywhere else. I planned on coming back. I just hoped it wouldn't take Jill and the others too long to return the city back to normal.

But it turns out they would never succeed, I would never return. And with the exception of a handful of lucky citizens, the fate Raccoon's population was sealed.


	16. Chapter 14: Outbreak

**Author's Notes: **Craig Crankurt is a secondary character of mine, one who shares a close past with Kenny. He is present in many other fics of mine, and made his debut in my Resident Evil stories with "World of the Undead: File 2".

**HHoD: **I'm not going to have Amber hook up with anyone. Remember this fic is from Kenny's point of view. So whatever he believes isn't necessarily true. I just thought it'd be cool to have two OC's from two separate authors share a unique relationship.

**Farmboy: **Such strong words of praise that I'm nowhere near worthy of. But thanks anyway.

**E-Z B: **Er, sorry about that stupid mistake on my part. I went back and read that David's hair was brown, though I could've sworn you said blonde during my first read through. Whatever, I'll fix it somehow.

**XXXXX**

**September 19th 1998**

It was a guy's day out today after school, on a bright, sunny Friday afternoon. "Fashion Freedom" weather was still in effect, much to Julie's joy, and she decided to take the girls out for a late lunch, compliments of her father, Lawrence Wilberforce. Feeling slight resentment, Justin was the one who came up with the idea of the guys' day out, pulling me and Phil along with him from the school grounds and into his GMC truck. We were cruising down the streets of Raccoon, hip hop music blaring from Justin's brand new, surround sound speakers. Blue neon lights lined the elbow rests in the back seat.

I was in the passenger seat, right arm handing out a window with a smoke hanging from between my fingers. Justin was the mirror image of me, only with a doobie in his right hand. Phil, being an athlete, was the only drug free person in the car. Justin turned his baseball cap backwards so the rim wouldn't limit his vision while driving, or so he could give fellow drivers the troublemaker teenager glare and have his victims see his face clearly. I was wearing a baseball T-shirt, you know, the kind that had colored sleeves and necklines, and a nice baggy pair of jeans with my signature Chuck Taylor shoes. Phil – now, I swear the guy only wears one kind of shirt – and that would be the muscle shirts that show off a guy's arms. He had a dark blue one on today with his knee length soccer shorts. Between the three of us, we were quite a spectrum of guys. Phil got most, if not all of the attention from the girls, given his sheer size and all-American looks. Justin was a little shorter and leaner, but had his fair share and was experienced enough, but not a man-whore. And I was the runt of the group being the shortest, skinniest, and having the build of a twelve year old and a jaw line as smooth as a baby's bottom. I was the one who all the girls thought was cute, but in that innocent, child-like kind of way.

Having nothing much else to do, I found the three of us sitting at a local cafe, enjoying the nice weather, talking about anything and everything. It was a nice time for the three of us to strengthen our bond, and at the moment, we were talking about …

"…the strange disease going around the city, and it's confirmed to be a virus," Justin said. "I saw it on the news this morning, and medical authorities are suggesting that people keep away from crowded places until they can figure out how this virus spreads."

"Well we came into close contact with an infected bum," Phil said, pointing to me and himself. "And both of us are okay."

"Yeah," I nodded, "the guy even grabbed my arm."

"And the guy bit me," Phil added.

"But your skin – did it break?" Justin asked.

Phil shrugged. "I'm not sure – not initially, anyway. But then it got a little itchy so I scratched at it, then the wound started bleeding."

"But that day at the cafeteria …" I said, "it looked a little bruised, but that was about it."

"Well maybe the bite broke the skin, but wasn't deep enough to draw blood," Justin suggested.

"Yeah, maybe that's enough for you to contract the virus?"

"Kenny, I don't have the virus, okay? Geez, you can be so paranoid sometimes."

I noticed a strange man watching us from a table away. Justin and Phil had their backs turned to him but I was facing him from where I sat, his face clear between the tall coffee cups sitting on our table. He was dressed in an expensive looking Italian suit, black, with a pair of matching black shades. A briefcase sat beside him leaning against his seat as he scribbled on some paper work with an expensive looking pen – not those cheap ones you can get for bargain price at the drug store. No, we're talking ball point, black but lined with gold, sleek and shiny …

The moment Phil mentioned that he got bitten, the man's head snapped up and looked at our group. We made eye contact and I lowered my gaze, hoping I'd give the impression that I didn't notice him staring at us. One second of looking at this guy and I was already getting the creeps. Maybe he was worried that if Phil had the virus, he could just as easily catch it too? No, that wasn't right. If that's what he was thinking and he was concerned enough, he would've just booked it out of there. But he continued eavesdropping on our conversation, craning his neck to hear more. That's when I decided to give my friends a heads-up.

"Creepy man, six o'clock," I mumbled quickly. Justin and Phil froze with wide eyes. "Not an infected bum. Shady businessman."

Justin rolled his eyes and sighed in relief, saying, "Oh, they're all shady."

The man reached down for his briefcase and placed it on the table. I caught sight of the Umbrella Pharmaceutical's logo imprinted and dyed on the case's leather surface. He placed his paperwork inside and exchanged them for a cell phone, flipping it open, and dialed a number. He put the phone to his ear and stole another glance at us. That was the last straw, and I was beginning to get a little nervous.

"Let's get out of here," I said suddenly, standing up from my seat.

"Whoa, man, what's the hurry?" Justin asked, his confusion reflected in the expression on Phil's face.

"That guy's acting really suspiciously," I said as quietly as I could.

Phil and Justin turned around to face the man, who now looked at them with a grin on his face. He looked back down at his paperwork and began talking to whoever it was on the phone. The guys turned back to face me and crinkled their brows in confusion. I cocked my head over my shoulder, signaling that we should jet before we find out what the weirdo was all about.

"One in ten thousand people," I heard the guy say to his friend on the phone as we packed up to leave. "He's handling the virus differently than the others. A possible candidate for the tyrant program …"

Phil had heard it too and looked at me with wide eyes. "Jesus, fuck!" he mouthed. We left our half consumed coffees and headed back for the truck as fast as we could walk without taking anymore glances at the mysterious individual sitting near us at the café. The truck was just a few meters within range. Just a few more steps and we'd be careening down the streets and away from this creep. I found myself surprisingly wishing for Officer Ryman to be at the wheel of the truck. Nobody could out-drive him.

Phil and I waited on the passenger side while Justin scurried around the vehicle over to the driver's side so he could unlock the door for us. Then I heard a muffled scream.

"Justin!" Phil cried, running around to come to his friend's rescue, while I tagged along a few feet behind. But before I could round the vehicle, I felt a strong arm wrap itself around my chest and hoist me off my feet, while a hand clasped over my mouth. My assailant held me about a foot off the ground, my legs kicking helplessly under me. And then I saw Justin, an Italian suit donning bodyguard of a man holding him close to his body with a gun pointed to his temple. Suddenly I felt a cold, circular piece of steel press against my skull, and heard a click of a gun. Phil was trapped between us and our captors, his gaze shifting between me and Justin, nervous sweat coating his face. Those few seconds felt like an eternity as Phil considered his options.

Meanwhile I was still struggling to grasp the concept that someone was holding me at gunpoint. All they had to do was squeeze the trigger and my short life would be over, just like that. I was an effortless step away from death and the thought wasn't sitting well with me. I let out a terrified whimper through the gloved fingers that held my mouth shut, and no doubt, Justin was feeling the exact same way. What options did Phil have? What could he do to save us both?

My captor spoke, not to me, but to Phil. "We would like you to come with us," he said simply. "Co-operate, and none of your friends will get hurt."

"W…what do you want with me?" Phil asked fearfully.

I couldn't see so much as I could feel the grin on my captor's face. "We will show you when you come."

Phil put up his hands. "Okay, man, I'll come with you. Just let my friends go."

I was set back on the ground, and Justin was shoved forward, away from his captor. I turned back to look at mine, discovering it was the same businessman who was at the café, only this time, his briefcase wasn't with him. I hadn't expected him to be toting a gun around, though. As Phil walked towards my captor with his arms up, we crossed each other's path as I headed for Justin. "I got him," Phil mumbled quickly and quietly as we passed.

Justin came and stood by my side as we watched Phil approached the businessman. "We're not gonna just let him go, are we?" Justin asked.

"GET 'EM!" Phil cried suddenly, throwing himself at my captor. Using his size to his advantage, Phil knocked the man off his feet and wrestled him to the ground. The gun flew from his hand and landed a few feet away, just under the wheel of Justin's truck.

Justin and I turned and headed for the man's partner – a tall, bald, dark skinned man dressed in a similar suit. But this one was taller and bigger than his partner. His giant steroid-like muscles could be seen from beneath the fabric of his fine clothes. Even with Justin and I working together to take this one down, there was a good chance we would fail. Justin moved in for the kill first, putting as much power as he could muster behind a body check. The big man let Justin's shoulder collide with his abdomen in full force, doing nothing to try and soften the blow. But Justin just bounced off harmlessly, struggling to catch his balance.

While he was keeping the big man distracted, I made my move, leaping onto the guy's back, scrambling up to his shoulders like a cat. Hooking my legs around his armpits to support myself, I started pounding my fists into the back of his head. The guy jerked and twisted his body to throw me off, but my leg muscles were doing a good job of holding on. I wrapped an arm under his chin, put my other one over the top of his head and pulled it back, exposing his throat.

"Justin, now!" I ordered.

Realizing that his earlier antic of trying to topple the man didn't work, Justin decided to fuck it all and throw a flying side kick at the guy, his full weight behind the move. I was not as impressed with the move, realizing that if Justin was successful at toppling the man, I would be falling down with him and from this height, it wasn't something I'd be looking forward to. The kick connected into the big man's abdomen, sending him reeling over in pain. He bent forward, toppling me to the floor at his feet in the process. I tucked my body into a roll upon contact with the pavement, the pain from the collision shooting up my shoulder, despite softening the impact. While on the ground, I kicked up my leg, catching him in the side of the face with my foot, flooring the man in a second.

Meanwhile, Phil had tackled the businessman to the ground and the both of them were wrestling for the gun. I dashed towards the back wheel of Justin's truck, where the firearm lay and scooped it up in a hand. I pointed it at the man, who held on tightly to Phil's leg, refusing to let him get any closer to the gun but it was too late, as I held it in my hand, aiming it for his back.

"Let him go!" I demanded, the metallic weight of the gun in my shaky hands. The guy released Phil instantly, holding his hands up to show he no longer posed a threat. Phil scrambled back up to his feet and gave the guy a solid kick in the ribs.

"Eat that, fucker!" he cursed. "I'm not going anywhere with you psychotic fucks."

"They're with Umbrella," I said without realizing it, memories of what Chris and Jill had said running through my mind. Umbrella Pharmaceuticals … I never imagined that the company that ran the city would have hit men running around.

"Kenny, Phil, watch out!" Justin cried. Phil and I turned around to face him but it was too late for us. The big man had gotten up to his feet, throwing Justin into the side of his truck. Justin hit the back of his head on the driver side window and landed on his feet, staggering to maintain his balance. Just as I absorbed what had occurred, I felt a powerful fist smash into my temple, and my vision blacked out for a second. I barely noticed the gun fall from my grip and onto the floor, as the other assailant scooped it up. As I struggled to hold onto my consciousness, the big man wrapped a powerful hand around Phil's throat, choking the poor guy. The two of them began walking away with Phil in their grasp.

Justin stumbled after them but it was clear, even in my fading vision that he had taken a severe hit to the head.

"What do we do with the others?" the big man asked. "Want me to kill them?"

"No," his boss replied, much to my surprise. "We don't need anymore blood on our hands as necessary. We've got what we came for."

The last I saw of Phil was his fearful expression, begging me and Justin to do something. It was that moment that I slipped into unconsciousness. That was the last time I saw Phil Barrett alive.

**XXXXX**

**September 20th, 1998**

"He said something about Phil handling the virus differently than most people," I sniffed, through hot tears of guilt. The warm cup of coffee between my palms did nothing to warm the cold chills that shot down my spine. "I don't understand," I repeated for the hundredth time. "What the hell were they talking about? There was something along the lines of one in ten thousand people reacting the way Phil did to the virus … what the hell is going on in this city?" I cried into my hands like a sobbing woman, but I didn't care at that point. The confusion of the past few months, the attacks that I personally went through, the Chief's refusal to help out the city, Jill and Chris keeping their discoveries a secret from me, and now losing one of my friends to these creeps … it was all taking a toll on my teenage psyche and I realized then that I was not as invincible as I thought.

Around me, Amber, Rita, Officer Kevin Ryman and Officer McGraw stood with looks of sympathy on their faces. It was late at night, and I had just given a report for the third time in recent months. The first two were regarding the canine attack that Sarah and I encountered, and then the zombie bum at the school with Phil and Jack. And now it was Phil's kidnapping and I was too worn out to go home. It was past midnight and as tired as the officers were, they were there to console me, an act that I will forever be grateful for. Amber was beside me, her arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders, my head leaning against hers. She rubbed my shoulder in support and patted my chest for comfort but it was doing very little.

"We'll find these bastards," she promised, "we'll get your friend back."

"Not if the chief has anything to say about it," I countered. "He's never going to let you deal with any of the recent developments. After I saw the article in the paper about the R.P.D.'s inactions, I doubt he's ever going to let an officer undertake the task of finding out what's going on. I've got my suspicions about that guy."

"He's a fuckin' dickhead," Officer McGraw barked, almost involuntarily. "I don't care if we have to patrol this whole damn city to find your friend. But we'll get him back – with or without Iron's permission."

"It's bad enough with civilians in danger," Kevin agreed, "but to do that to three kids?" He shook his head. "This is too much, it really is. We have to do something."

"You think we would've learned something from the S.T.A.R.S.," Rita said. "Look at what's happened to them. We should've believed them earlier."

"I believed them from the start," Amber muttered so quietly, that I was the only one to hear her. Then she spoke, louder this time. "I won't let Joseph's sacrifice be in vain," she promised me and herself in one statement. "We won't let any more people die unnecessarily."

"Oh God …" I choked in despair.

"N…no!" Amber corrected herself. "I didn't mean _die_, more like 'suffer'! Your friend isn't dead, Kenny, and don't you believe that for even a second! We can't give up hope!"

"How's Justin?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Marvin drove him home," Officer McGraw explained, trying to avoid a direct answer. "He's going to tell his parents exactly what happened. We're issuing a warning to the local neighborhoods to being watching out for shady characters, although I'm sure the general public's already aware of the 'zombies' lurking around in the streets."

"Is he doing alright?" I pressed.

"He hasn't spoken much," Rita explained. "I think it's the shock. He'll need some time to absorb what happened, and we have counselors ready if he wants to take advantage of their presence. Of course, you're welcome to do the same."

"Don't bother with me," I said, "just find Phil."

"You're sure it was Umbrella?" Kevin asked, rubbing his chin in deep thought.

"I saw the logo – the red and white octagonal logo on the man's briefcase," I replied.

"It just doesn't make sense that a company specializing in medicines would be going about kidnapping teens."

"I know what I saw," I insisted.

"We're not doubting that you saw what you did. It's just hard to believe, that's all."

"It was also hard to believe in zombies." That comment silenced Kevin and the other officers. Worried faces looked at each other to figure out what to say next. Nobody knew what else they could say so I spoke up. "I'm leaving the city," I said, finalizing what Jill and Chris had told me to do so many times.

**XXXXX**

**September 22nd, 1998**

I skipped school today. I didn't care about school anymore, I didn't care about my hours at the precinct and I didn't care about Raccoon anymore. I was going to escape this town and it didn't matter that half the school thought I was a paranoid freak. Better to be safe and paranoid than being attacked by drunken zombified bums, ravenous crows, rabid dogs, or kidnapped by shady Umbrella hit men. I just wanted out. I had spent yesterday and most of today packing my belongings into a pair of suitcases. I only wanted to take the necessities with me – my personal identification, bank cards, some clothes, and cash. Realizing that the second suitcase contained sentimental items, I chose to leave that at the apartment. I could always come back when the city was back under control and continue living my life. But right now, I just needed enough to last me a few months.

Just as I was heading out the door, the phone to my apartment rang. I was in a hurry to leave town, but I guess I could've spared a few minutes for a goodbye conversation with someone with enough heart to call me. I had cut off myself from the world for the last two days, busying myself with packing all my belongings. I wanted – needed – to talk to someone right now.

"Hello?" I called into the receiver.

"Yo, Kenny, it's Kevin – err … Officer Ryman," the speaker said nervously. "I'm just calling to make sure you're okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. "Is there something wrong?"

"Just wondering why you didn't show up for work today without calling in sick," he said. "It's not like you."

Shit, was I supposed to work today? Right, it was a Monday. "Um, I'm sorry Kevin, I just … I forgot."

"Now that's _really_ not like you," he added.

"Are they mad?"

"Oh, not at all," he replied. "We're more worried about you than anything. I know you said you were leaving town, but you didn't give an exact date, and we were under the impression that you'd get your hours completed before taking off."

"I'm in a real rush to get out of here," I said, realizing just how crazy I sounded. But it's like I said, no more caring. "Is there any way I can finish my hours when I get back?"

"It's no problem, kiddo," Kevin said, "we'll take you back any time. And if the chief says no, Rita, Amber, David, Marvin and I will personally tie him up and torture him until he agrees to take you back."

"You don't have to do that for me," I laughed, surprised to find how good it felt. Officer Ryman always had a knack for cheering people up when they were down.

"Nah, we're looking for any excuse to beat the stuffing out of the Chief," he said. "I'm heading over to J's Bar tonight. I know it's against the law and everything, but if you want, I'll take you there and we can just hang out if you need to let off some steam."

"Thanks for the offer," I said, "but I'm going to see if I can leave town by tonight."

"What?" he cried out in surprise. "So soon?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I've been pushed beyond my limits. There's nothing else I can do and staying here would just be … it'd just be bad."

"Well you've been through a lot lately and I can't say I blame you. But hey, kiddo – I want you to stay safe, okay? Don't worry your little head over what's going on in town. Things will sort themselves out in time. Just hang on while we get them under control."

"Thanks, Kevin. You guys stay safe too. When you get into work tomorrow, tell Rita and the others I said goodbye, and that I'm sorry I couldn't do it in person."

"Will do. I'll see you when you get back."

"Okay, I'll talk to you then."

**XXXXX**

I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the taxi I had booked came within sight. I noticed it had pulled – with a lot of trouble for such a simple maneuver - to a complete stop just a few feet away from where I stood. I wasn't the lazy type, so I walked towards it with suitcase in hand, though I began questioning the adequacy in the driver's skills. Tapping on the trunk, the driver popped it open – again, taking a ridiculously long time to comprehend what I wanted him to do, and placed my suitcase in it and slamming it shut. I made my way to the driver's side of the taxi and opened the door, jumping in, fumbling around for the seatbelt.

"Thanks for coming," I said politely. "I couldn't wait to get out of this place. I'm taking a vacation and …" I was starting to wonder why the taxi hadn't pulled from the curb yet. I felt the driver's eyes looking at me. When I turned my head to face him, I nearly screamed in horror and instinctively pressed myself up against the passenger door. His face was covered in all sorts of boils with his skin peeling off in huge hunks, revealing yellow boils and red muscle underneath.

"Tired …" he mumbled.

"S…sir, you should get to a hospital!" I cried, pointing a shaky finger. "Your face!"

"Must … eat …" I leapt out of the car like a bat out of hell, in time to avoid the driver, who now lunged at me with clawed fingers. Looking at his hands, I noticed they were covered in the same boils that were on his face, only these were leaking a strange yellow puss. He started clawing hungrily at the seat where I was sitting just a few seconds ago. In complete and utter shock, I slammed the door shut and ran as fast as my feet could carry me, back into my apartment, completely forgetting about the luggage I left in the trunk of the vehicle.

I had only made it a few steps to my building when my path was cut off by another figure. "Holy shit, you gotta help me!" I cried. "The driver in that taxi's fucking …" I trailed off when I noticed the figure's face. She had once been a woman, but her scalp was now hanging off her skull, a sick hunk of skin with the hair still attached, exposing the bone underneath. Her floral, sleeveless summer dress she wore was stained in places with red patches of blood and even darker spots of … I didn't want to know. Struggling to hold in my lunch, I dodged the woman as she fell forward, trying to get me in her rotting grasp. That's when I noticed two more figures behind her lurching towards me, moaning incoherently with a feral frustration.

"I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming," I repeated, dashing back into the apartment building. "Zombies don't exist. Zombies don't exist. Zombies don't …" The threesome crashed through the glass door that I'd just slammed shut and came after me with bloody, rotting, outstretched hands. I ran for the elevators, hot breath against my cold skin, but it wasn't coming fast enough.

I knew I was done for as I could smell them approach. If they so much as managed to grab onto me, there was no way in hell I'd be able to escape from being bitten. And I've had my share of horror movies in the past. Once they bite you … I didn't even want to consider what it was like being one of them. I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat in realization that they were almost upon me.

A loud bang eliminated my fear for a brief moment, and the creatures around me were suddenly thrown backwards and split into a million pieces, like an invisible blade had swung through the air and vaporized them. I stared at the creatures in shock and then back up to whatever killed them, seeing a man standing powerfully between me and the zombies with a shotgun in hand, snarling aggressively at the remains of the undead. His face displayed an expression of pure hate, and his hair was red, as intense as his face. He was muscular, tall and solid in stature, clothed in a black T-shirt and a pair of genes, now bloodied from the remains of the zombies. He then looked over his shoulder at me and asked,

"Are you alright, Kenny?"

My first instinct was to ask who he was and how he knew my name, but upon hearing more groans coming from the outside and rapidly approaching the now broken glass door to the apartment lobby, I changed my mind.

"Come on, we'll be safer upstairs," I said, motioning for him to come along with me. The stranger didn't say a word and followed just a few steps behind, keeping his eyes trained on whatever might be following us.

We clambered up the stairs and thankfully, I only lived on the second floor. My smoker's metabolism would never carry me all the way to the top of the building. I fumbled for the keys in my pocket as I ran, thankful that I'd stuffed them in my pants and not in the suitcase, unlocked my door, dashed inside, waited for the stranger to follow suit and slammed it shut with a resounding thud. I slid the chain lock into place, turned the secondary lock, hearing it click into place, and leaned with my full weight against the door, attempting to catch my breath and gather my thoughts.

"What the hell were those?" I asked, although I fully knew what they were, and even suspected it before all this shit hit the fan.

"They look like zombies to me," the stranger replied.

"At least I'm not the only crazy one around these parts," I mumbled passively.

The zombies weren't coming after us, at least from the lack of footsteps. My eyes darted around the room, looking for something to hold my door in place, just in case they found where I was hiding.

"The chair!" I ordered the stranger. He dashed for the dining area, just a few feet away, and came back with a chair, propping it up underneath the knob. I had to take a breath. My mind was swimming in a mixture of confusion, panic and fear, and my heart was about to burst from my chest. I had to gather my thoughts. Then I spotted the phone.

"What are you doing?" the stranger asked.

"Calling the cops, what does it look like?" I gave a little more attitude than I intended, which probably wasn't the most appropriate action considering this guy saved my life just minutes ago. But given the circumstances, I'm sure he could understand. I ran for the phone, dialing 911, praying for the operator to pick up quickly.

"Emergency line," a soft voice said, picking up, sounding fatigued and a little slow.

"You've got to send the cops over here," I said. "There are these freaks outside my home. They broke into the lobby of my apartment and they're inside the building. The people here are in danger and …"

"You went outside?" the operator asked, like she was shocked.

"Y…yes, I went outside!" I cried in dismay. What, was it now against the law to go outside? I had to get the hell out of town, for crying out loud. This wasn't the time to criticize me for exercising my God-given right to enjoy the outdoors and it most certainly wasn't the time for …

"The warning to stay indoors was issued earlier this evening." I glanced at my watch. It was approaching three in the morning, and that surprised me. I had been busy packing all day that I barely noticed the time fly by. How long had it been since I spoke to Kevin on the phone? "The warning was issued all over the radio and television and has been aired ever since. Nobody is to go outdoors due to the sudden spike in encounters with … with …"

"What is it?"

"…zombies," the operator finished.

"Look, I'm sorry," I said, excusing myself, "I've been busy readying myself to get out of town. I didn't have the T.V. or the radio turned on so I missed the announcement. There are … zombies, outside my house right now and I need you to send people over here!"

"The police have their hands full," the operator replied coldly. "The city is in utter chaos. I'm sorry, but we have no more personnel left to direct to protect civilians, especially when we warned them to remain indoors …"

I hung up on the operator. Her words enraged me. The police weren't performing their duty to serve and protect. After everything I've done, contributing countless hours to the precinct without getting paid – and this was how they chose to serve me in return? Curse Chief Irons!

"What is it?" the fiery haired stranger asked. "Are they coming?"

"No," I replied simply. "They're not coming."

His eyes widened in shock to reveal green irises. "You're joking me."

I shook my head in response. "I'm dead serious. We've got to hold up here until we can do something."

The stranger put an eye to the peephole of the door. "It doesn't look like they're coming after us," he said. "If they were, they'd be here by now."

"Well if they do try and get in," I said, tipping my chin at his shotgun, "we're gonna be using that against them, right?"

He man looked at the shotgun he held in his grimy hands and frowned in thought. "I don't have much ammunition for this thing. You got any baseball bats we could use in here, Kenny?" There he went again. He called me by my name!

"No, but I have a broom and a really tall lampshade we could …" I trailed off. Come to think of it – the red hair this guy had, the green eyes – they looked oddly familiar to me, though I couldn't quite place where I'd seen the familiar face before. I had to ask. "Who are you, how did you find me, and how the hell do you know my name?"

"I'd fucking kill all the zombies in this hell hole of a town before I let any of them lay a rotting finger on my brother," he replied simply.

Okay, now all of a sudden I wasn't feeling as safe with this weirdo in my home, toting a shotgun, claiming he was my brother. He looked Irish or something and my ancestry hails from the Far East. There was no way we could have been related!

"A … and who might that be?" I asked nervously.

"Look," he said, looking at me sympathetically, "I know it's been a few years and you might not recognize me. Back then I was a scrawny little sixteen year old taking care of you on the mean streets of Osaka. But you can't say you've _completely_ forgotten about your big brother, Craig Crankurt!"


	17. Chapter 15: No Way Out

**HHoD: **I'd ask how in the hell you know who Cranky is, at this point, but you've already told me, so I understand! Hope you liked my other work like you seem to be enjoying this one! And again, no worries, I'll try to leave Amber alone as much as possible so I don't ruin anything in your story.

**E-Z B: **Well I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned this to you, but Phil's fate is revealed in Project Lucifer.

**Divine Serenity: **Best story you've read in your history of reading novels? I'm VERY flattered – just don't ask me to prove it to other people ;) If you're looking for Kenny to get involved with more elements from the video game, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised as this story continues …

**Lore:** Lol, my worked scared you that much, huh? I don't know if that's good or bad!

**Farmboy: **I don't think there's going to be many death scenes here, considering the characters will be living on to appear in their original fics (and perhaps die there). This fic is mostly mean to connect multiple Resident Evil fics into one flowing storyline.

**XXXXX**

**September 23rd, 1998**

The stranger looked at me, a happy expression on his face like we haven't seen each other in years only to be reunited in the worst of circumstances after so long. The only problem was I didn't remember ever seeing him before in my life, despite the aura of familiarity surrounding him. A few silent seconds ticked by, and his excited expression gradually faded with every passing moment.

"You really don't remember, do you?" he asked, his low tone laced with disappointment.

I shook my head slowly, afraid to offend him, especially when he held a shotgun in his hand. This guy – Craig Crankurt, he called himself – was crazy thinking we were brothers when he had red hair, green eyes and a lightly tanned complexion, while I had black hair, brown eyes, and pale skin. I hailed from the Orient while he was clearly of Northern or Eastern European descent. But I decided to play along with his game, just to humor him, and so I could probably make it out of this alive. I would've rather taken my chances with the zombies.

"So, you wanna tell me how we're related?" I asked.

"We don't have time for that," he replied, pumping his shotgun. "We'll be here all night if I tried telling you the whole story and with those rotting freaks outside, time is a luxury we don't have."

"Well, Mr. Crankurt, staying here would –"

"Please," he said, holding a hand up, "I'm not used to you calling me that."

"Well what do you go by?" I asked.

"Just … just call me Cranky," he said. "That might help jog your memory a little." It took considerable effort not to grin at the double entendre.

"Well – Cranky - what do you propose we do?" I asked. I didn't want to leave my apartment. It was much safer in here compared to whatever was roaming outside. No wonder the police officers issued the order to stay indoors. Well, they couldn't physically force us to adhere to the rule, but I was inclined to believing them, especially with those zombies. Who knows, maybe even the walls and doors would stop the zombies from tracking us by scent, if that was in fact the way they hunted.

"Get the hell out of here," Cranky answered. "But we've gotta save the ammunition I was able to get for this gun. I managed to find a box of shotgun shells in a police van." He patted a small box that was strapped around a shoulder and across his broad chest, the box hanging by his hip. "There's seven rounds loaded and twenty eight more in the box. But I don't know how much more we can find, if any at all so we only use this baby if we have no other choice. You got that?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now go find anything we can use for a weapon."

I obediently walked towards the closet by the entrance, remembering a broom that I kept there. It wasn't much I could use to engage the zombies but right now I was willing to take anything. I'd been on my own for as long as I can remember – whether it came to surviving on the streets, financing the rent for the apartment, enrolling myself in school and work experience, everything was done on my own. With the exception of work at the precinct, not once to my recollection had I ever let someone order me around like this before, especially in my own house.

But with Cranky, the both of us working together with him making the bigger decisions … I can't explain it very well but it just felt … familiar, in that distant sort of way. I trusted him with my life – which is a big thing to claim because I've never relied on anyone before, let alone a complete stranger within the first fifteen minutes of meeting them. I began to believe what Cranky had implied earlier – that I knew him from somewhere, because the more we talked about what to bring, the more we bickered, the way we bounced words off one another and finished each other's thoughts, it felt as if I'd known him for years.

"You go to school or anything?" he asked.

"Uh huh," I nodded. He smiled again, only this time I could sense his pride.

"A luxury I never expected you to have," he mumbled, partly to himself. He shook his head and blinked, clearing his mind. "Anyway, get your backpack and empty it out. We wanna be able to carry as much as we can."

"Well my school backpack's pretty small. I have a hiking one that's bigger and we could probably fit more in," I offered.

"Good thinking. I'm gonna raid your kitchen – that okay with you?"

"Yeah, we might be needing food."

"I was talking about knives."

I stared at the broomstick in my hand, feeling utterly stupid. "They might be a little more useful then this," I said, staring at the broom in my hand feeling a little embarrassed.

"Well hold on to the broom. We could use that too."

"Hey, I think I know where we can get more firearms," I said, remembering my neighbor, Mr. Redding. "The guy had to survive on the streets when he was a kid, and now he still thinks everyone's out to get him."

"You got something in common," Cranky noted.

"What?"

"What kind of firearms does he have, and how many of them?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Uh, probably in his closet or under his bed, I'm not too sure," I admitted.

"Won't he be needing the guns to himself?"

"No, he's out of town on a business trip," I explained. "I'm house-sitting for him. Well, not really cause I just live right next door, but whatever – he's not expected back for another two weeks. The poor guy gets to miss all the fun Raccoon City has to offer."

"Then he won't mind if we borrow his guns for just a few days."

"Okay," I said, heading for the door. "We'll go over to his place and take whatever useful item we can find."

"Not so fast," Cranky ordered, putting a stop to my path. "Not until you put on a coat. It's cold outside."

**XXXXX**

I cracked open the door to my apartment, looking around slowly to see if there was anything waiting around the corner to jump me. There was nothing. Opening it wider, I still saw nothing that threatened us immediately. I turned around and motioned for Cranky to follow me – with my hiking backpack strapped on, filled with brooms, heavy textbooks (hey, if they worked against zombie dogs, they might work against human zombies too), box cutters, a nail gun, pens and pencils, sharpener blades, mugs, silverware and dishes – anything sharp or breakable, pretty much.

A cool breeze blew through the empty hallways of the apartment building, coming from an open window at the far end. It was ice cold in there. Mr. Redding's door was just a few feet from mine. I tried the knob and found it locked. Cranky aimed the shotgun at the door and cocked his head to one side, telling me to move out of the way.

"No," I said, putting my hands up. "I have the key. I'm house-sitting, remember?"

"Right," Cranky nodded.

I returned with the keychain Mr. Redding had given me. Flipping through the various keys, I tried to remember which one was for the car, for the mailbox, his work keys, and the house keys, trying all of them before the final one unlocked it and let us into his dark home.

The apartment was a mirror image of my own, layout wise. But it was a hell of a lot neater, just as Mr. Redding had left it. "It's so tidy," I noted. "It can't be too hard to find a firearm in here."

"I'm gonna try the closet," Cranky said. "He headed towards the bedroom, mirroring the direction in his mind from the layout of my suite. "You stay here and pack more weapons and food into the backpack." I nodded in agreement and opened the fridge, managing to find some beer, cold pizza and microwave dinners. What freak kept microwave dinners in the fridge! I wondered what he kept in the freezer so I opened it up and found a full ice-cream bucket. There was no way we were going to leave that in there.

"Put that back," Cranky said, coming out from the bedroom with two handguns, one in each hand.

"But we can satisfy our sweet tooth and eliminate zombies at the same time," I said, holding up the bucket happily. "This thing's pretty damn heavy – and it's rock solid." I rapped my knuckles on the lip, producing a high pitched tap, like knocking on a brick wall."

"Yeah but are you sure we can fit it in the bag? And even if we could, the thing's getting pretty heavy to carry already."

"Wuss," I mumbled.

"Hey – you wanna carry it?" Cranky asked.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," I laughed.

"That's right! Anyway, here are two handguns we could use and there's a few boxes of rounds under his bed. I managed to find a gym bag in the closet, so we could use that for extra carrying space. We'll put the heavier items in the duffel bag and I'll carry that. You take the other …"

"Hey, I can carry heavy shit too, you know."

"But you're all skin and bones!" Cranky protested. "You've gotta hit the gym, work out a little more, get some muscle on you. Eat lots of red meat and grow big and strong." He flexed an arm, popping an impressive bicep. This guy was like an older version of Phil. Phil … guilt ripped at my conscience as I realized I completely forgot about him the past few days. I hoped he was alright. I hope Rita and the others managed to find him. But with the zombies running rampant all over the city, was it even possible? Were Rita and Kevin and the other officers okay? Then I just remembered – earlier Kevin told me that he had gone to J's Bar. With zombies running rampant all over the streets, I wondered how he was holding up against them, or if the zombies were only in this area of town.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were sensitive to that kinda thing," Cranky apologized, rubbing the back of his head nervously.

I snapped out of my thoughts, realizing that I'd been so absorbed in my thoughts that I had completely stopped paying attention to him. "N…no," I said, trying to form words, "I was just worried about some friends, especially with all those freaks out there." I waved my arm at the general direction of the main street outside the apartment block.

"Look," Cranky said, losing all lightness in his tone, "what matters is that you're still alive. It's not safe to stay in town anymore so we're gonna get out of here."

"And just leave everyone to their fate?"

"Well if I'm not wrong, I could've sworn I almost saw you get into a taxi with a suitcase. Seems to me like you were planning on doing just that."

"B … but I didn't know there were zombies on the loose!" I cried.

Cranky folded his arms angrily across his broad chest. "So then what do you propose we do?"

"You can do whatever you want," I said, "but I'm not leaving here without knowing if everyone's okay."

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "I came all the way here from London to visit you. Now I find this city's about to be eaten alive by monsters that aren't supposed to exist … I came here just in time to get you the hell out of here, and I'm not going to have you undermine my luck by refusing to leave."

"And you expect me to leave my friends, my co-workers, my neighbors – people I've known for the past two years I've spent living here with someone I just met? Yeah, it's pretty obvious we use to know each other – which you still need to explain to me how, by the way – but I barely remember you!"

"Look, if you want me to explain to you what you obviously can't remember, we're going to have to wait till we're out of this dangerous place, so we can have some time to discuss such issues," Cranky insisted. "Do you remember anything in your life before age seven?"

"I'll have you know that …" I paused. I spoke with rage at first that this familiar stranger claimed to know me so well not so much through words that through the way he acted around me, but when he posed the question, I realized it was one I couldn't answer. "I grew up in Osaka, moved to Tokyo for a few months before moving to America."

"No," he said sternly, "before that."

I'd never thought about my childhood before. Being the uptown Raccoon teenagers we were, everyone I knew was more focused on growing up, decking ourselves out in the latest clothes, hair gel, and cologne, owning top of the line goods that we never considered the past. Well, I suppose there was a first time for everything and I had to let Cranky win this conversation. "No, I don't remember," I conceded, though he didn't seem shocked at all by my answer, which irritated me a little more.

"And have you ever wondered why?"

"No, I haven't," I shot back, sounding a little angrier right now.

"Do you want to know?"

"Y…yes," I replied, ashamed that he was owning me in this argument.

"Then let's get the hell out of here and I will show you _everything._"

"No," I repeated stubbornly, "not without my friends."

It seemed as if that was the straw that snapped the camel's back. Cranky narrowed his green eyes at me and took a wide step towards me and sighed outwardly with a deep frown set upon his mouth. I'd never been intimidated like that before – sure, I knew my place when it came to the workplace, who had superiority and that was usually the source of me being intimidated. But it was never by another person's age, size, or attitude. But due to this mysterious relationship I'd established with him in the years that for some reason, were not in my memory, it was as if my instincts from those forgotten days were taking over my conscious mind. I knew I'd done something to piss him off.

"I've been trying to give you the benefit of the doubt," he seethed, "that you honestly don't remember. But your ignorance, combined with your complete stubbornness is aggravating me."

"Then escape from this place with your life. I don't expect nor do I want to condemn anyone else because of my choices." I was going to put it much ruder than I had, but for some reason, I knew the consequences would be more than I could handle. Why, why, why? Who was this guy, and how did I know him?

The suggestion horrified him – it was clear from that expression of utter shock, though it was held for a mere split second. "I don't care if I have to knock you out myself, kiddo. You are coming with me."

"At least try to understand my situation," I reasoned. "It sucks that I've completely forgotten about my past for whatever reason, but I've rebuilt my life here in Raccoon. I've gotten a fresh start at life. The people who live here are those I care about, people that mean something to me. As far as I'm concerned, these people are my world – everyone I know. If I'm going to leave them then at least let me do so with a peace of mind."

"Alright," he sighed, "we'll go check out the nearest places. But just a few quick trips, okay? I don't want to loiter around here for too long. It's not safe."

"I'll be quick," I promised.

**XXXXX**

Dawn had just broken by the time Cranky and I reached the police station. That was the best place to go, as most of my co-workers where there. RCSS was quite a ways away, and if classes were in session, there was no way I was going to make it. Cranky wasn't going to let me. Not that I had a problem with that. With all the things happening at once in the city, school was the last thing on my mind.

As we entered through the teal doors the led into the main hall, I noticed Cranky gawking at the sheer size of the place. Raccoon City had one of the finest precincts in the Midwest, if not, in all of the States, I was sure of it. How many police stations were established in an ex-museum? Everything from the polished marble floors, to the giant stain glass window at the far wall, and the Romanesque architecture deeply impressed him.

"You work _here?_" he asked, envy lacing his voice. "Not a bad move up the social ladder from a mere street kid, eh, Kenny?"

I would normally be proud as hell of the precinct, and that I worked there, volunteer or not. But there were issues on my mind – like if Kevin was okay. And the situation of the precinct's staff wasn't helping my psyche either. Normally, I'd come into work and see officers and staff alike scrambling around, just another typical busy day. But today, they were running. People were screaming over the noise of others, struggling to get organized. Something big was going on, judging by the sheer electricity in the air. Everyone was on edge. Officers were moving around quickly with tools in their hands while janitors and secretaries helped out with the physical labor whenever they could.

"Kenny!" Rita cried from behind our desk at our workstation. She jogged up to me, not noticing Cranky at first. "I'm so glad you're here to help us out. Things are crazy down here this morning."

"I … I came here to see if everyone was okay," I explained. "Didn't Kevin tell you about my situation?"

Rita returned a puzzled expression. "You have a situation?"

"Um, yeah, I was supposed to leave town last night."

"I take it that didn't turn out very well," she said, scratching her chin. "And I think I know why."

"The zombies are all over town, Rita. At least in this sector, anyway. I couldn't even leave my apartment."

She nearly broke down right then and there. Rita ran her hands through her blonde locks and groaned. "The S.T.A.R.S. were right this whole time. Damn us for not believing them!"

"B…but you didn't hear anything from Kevin? He said he'd let you all know …"

"We haven't heard from him since last night," Rita explained, tears welling in her eyes. "Oh God … I'm been so worried about him all day, trying to take my mind off it with all the work we've had to do this morning. But Kevin …"

"He went to J's Bar," I explained. "Did we have any Officers in the area last night?"

Rita shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "We were too busy trying to calm the chaos and our communication was all over the place, all outta whack."

"I've received word from Raymond," someone said from behind me. I turned around to face Officer McGraw, his usually tanned face was now flushed red with fatigue. His eyes were red, indicating he had very little sleep the night before. I wasn't even sure he went home after his shift. "He was stationed in front of J's Bar last night."

"I was just down there last night too," Cranky explained. "Just to into town yesterday …"

"Well you picked a great time to come," Officer McGraw said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry Raccoon City has to be in such dire straits upon your arrival. We're not usually this crazy."

"What's going on here?" I asked, looking around at the people running around like headless chickens.

"We're preparing the station for a zombie attack," Rita explained. "We're not sure how quickly this viral sickness is spreading, or if it's responsible for the zombies. But we're not taking any chances. If more of those creatures are due, we'll be prepared."

"We're trying to round up as many civilians as we can," Officer McGraw continued. "Some people are trying to make their way out of town, but the zombies are making it pretty difficult. Suddenly I'm missing the days when we'd get reports here and there of people getting attacked. Now people are dying en masse at every turn." Cranky stared at me, emphasizing Officer McGraw's point. I knew what he was trying to tell me, though I tried my best to ignore him.

Officer McGraw introduced himself to Cranky, extending a hand. "You look like a pretty strong guy," he noted. "You think you could help us buffer the more vulnerable parts of the station?"

"Well …" Cranky said, "We'd like to get out of town as soon as possible."

"He'd be happy to help," I said, speaking for Cranky, who only scowled back at me. "For my friends, Cranky. Come on …"

"Just tell me what to do," Cranky said to Officer McGraw, and the both of them walked off somewhere towards the east wing.

"I'm glad you could bring in some extra help, Kenny," Rita said, gratitude ringing in her voice. "So now that I know you're not working today, can I still ask you to help around?"

"You don't need to ask me, Rita."

"There's not much we have for you to do, except there's a lost little girl around here and she's pretty terrified. The poor thing is only twelve years old and her parents are nowhere to be found. If you can distract her for a little while, just hang out with her and help her forget all the madness going on in the city, that'd be terrific."

"Sure, where is she?"

"We're keeping her in the west office right now, where all the new workers are to be stationed. Her name is Sherry Birkin. Just introduce yourself, give her some food or something, just … anything to keep her distracted, okay? I'll let your friend know what you're up to when I see him."

"Thanks, Rita."

"Oh," she said, before walking off, "I just wanted to ask – who is he?"

"That's a good question," I replied, unsure of what else I could say.

"I didn't know you had any older friends – outside the police station, I mean."

"Rita ..." I tried finding the words to explain exactly who Cranky was, but I wasn't even 100 sure myself. "Just another survivor I met while on my way over here." It wasn't exactly the truth, but the closest thing to the truth I could get.

"Okay," she said, apparently satisfied with my answer as she changed the subject. "Sherry's waiting in the west office."

**XXXXX**

The little girl was sitting in massive chair that threatened to swallow her body. She was a pretty girl, with chin-length blonde hair and a sailor suit, seated behind a large oak desk in the east office. I opened the door to the office, only to meet resistance when it opened too wide.

"Ouch!" somebody yelled from behind the door. My eyes widened, realizing I'd just nailed someone in the face with the door. I quickly stepped inside and looked behind the door, while the little girl giggled from behind the desk.

"Officer Bernstein!" I cried, horrified at what I might've done to her. She held her face with a hand.

"Wow," she said in a high pitched voice, squeezing her bleeding nose with a thumb and forefinger, "you sure are in a rush to get somewhere, huh, Kenny?"

"Rita sent me here to watch out for the abandoned kid, but I didn't realize you were already here!" I exclaimed. "You want me to go get some paper towels for you?"

"No, no," she said, shaking her head, "I'll be fine. It's just a small bump."

"I'm really sorry …"

Amber said nothing more of it and left the office in a hurry. I turned to face the little girl, whose expression had changed dramatically, as she was now staring sadly at the tiles beneath her feet. Just a few moments ago she'd been giggling at Amber's misfortune. The cruel little brat … but now I felt a little sorry for her.

"Hey," I said, approaching her, "what's your name?" Of course, Rita had already told me, but how else are you going to approach a kid? Honestly, I don't have much experience dealing with them, but I tried my best with her, putting myself in her shoes as best I could.

She tilted her head to one side, avoiding eye contact with me and mumbled, "Sherry."

"How long have you been at the police station, Sherry?" I asked.

"Just a few hours," she replied.

"And when are you going home?"

She opened her mouth to speak and then paused. "…never." I jerked my head back in surprise at the response. Wow, she as so young and running away from home already. But before I could reach any assumptions, she continued speaking. "My mommy told me to come here cause she says it's not safe at home anymore."

I bit my lip, trying to hide a smirk forming across my lips. This girl couldn't have been much younger than me – I'd say twelve or thirteen years old and she was calling her mom "mommy"? She wouldn't last fifteen seconds at RCSS, which she was probably going to enter in a year or two.

Unable to withhold my curiosity, I asked, still acting like I was talking to a six year old, "So, how old are you?"

"Twelve," she replied shyly.

"Well, I'd say you're too big to be worried about your mom and dad, right?" She looked at me with large, watery blue eyes, wondering what I was implying. "Your parents aren't around to stop you from doing what you want. So why be sad? Enjoy it instead of sitting here, moping in this room."

"My mom and dad are never around," she explained. "Not even when bad things are happening in the city."

"Are they busy with work?"

Sherry nodded, twirling a little gold pendant that hung from her neck. "They work with Umbrella," she continued, blissfully unaware of the kind of atrocities her parents helped contribute to, while I could only gape in shock of the realization that this cute, innocent, albeit immature girl who sat before me came from a set of cruel, amoral, inhuman people. "They're too busy with their job sometimes."

Now that's a story I've heard before. Lisa always used to say to me how much she missed her parents, even though they lived in the same house. Lisa was always responsible for looking out for herself, getting to school on time, making sure she had food to eat, and doing her homework. And she had grown so much as a person in that respect. Hers was a situation similar to mine, but because I had no parents, I didn't feel a lot of sympathy towards her. But this little girl Sherry, nobody should be left to fend for themselves at that age. I remember living on the streets in Tokyo as a twelve year old – and yes, Mr. Masters was still supporting me financially but the sheer loneliness was overpowering. I was lucky enough to have made the move to Raccoon City and establish a network of support from friends.

"Well how about I look after you now?" I suggested. I can't explain what compelled me to say that to her, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. I didn't want her at such a young age to have to look out for herself in the middle of all this zombie craziness. I suppose that's what the officers felt about me, leaving me locked up in the office instead of out there helping them erect reinforcements throughout the station. Given the size of the precinct, they'd be busy all day and night.

A soft knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in," I said.

The door cracked open and Rita and Amber poked their heads through. Rita's eyes were red, like she'd been crying and Amber had her arms placed supportively on her co-worker's shoulders.

"Is something wrong?" I asked. Rita began sobbing into her hands while Amber's mouth moved silently, trying to find the right words to explain the situation.

"Officer Raymond gave us the lowdown on Kevin," Amber explained, her voice filled with dread. My heart skipped a beat. He couldn't have been dead, not Officer Ryman … My thoughts must've played across my face as Amber quickly continued with, "He's not dead. But he's been separated from the rest of us. We don't know if we can get him back."

"What do you mean by 'separated'?" Sherry looked up at me from her seat, not really understanding what was going on. Her wrinkled brows told me that she was at unease, probably feeling uncomfortable at seeing a grown woman, let alone a police officer in front of her, crying.

"Kevin was last reported seen fleeing with a group of citizens," Amber continued, "from J's Bar last night during the outbreak. We've since lost contact with him …"

"So he might be dead," I concluded.

Amber shook her head violently. "Do you have that little faith in his abilities?" she asked. "He'll be alright, Kenny." She sounded like she was trying to convince both me and herself simultaneously by saying this. "He'll protect the citizens he's with." She suddenly broke her hopeful demeanor, a scowl breaking up across her face. "Except maybe for that bitch, Cindy Lennox. Let's hope he doesn't waste any bullets protecting _her._"

The door suddenly burst open, and Cranky walked through, quickly but gently moving Rita and Amber aside. He didn't waste any time exchanging pleasantries with the two ladies and headed straight for Kenny.

"The barricades are set, the zombies are coming so let's get the _fuck_ out of here, Kenny," he said, reaching for Kenny's arm.

"B…but …" I protested, unable to think of another good reason to stay.

"We've done everything we could to help your friends. We risk dying if we stay here any longer."

"I don't think it's a good idea to go back out on the streets with zombies everywhere," Amber countered. "The two of you will be safer in the police station."

Rita had managed to gain her composure by now and stood by Amber's side, trying in vain to convince Cranky to stay. "It would b ea death sentence to go back out on the streets," she said. "Don't be foolish. You'll be putting yourself, and Kenny in danger if you step out now."

Cranky glared hatefully at the two women who were opposed to his decisions. "If you two are so adamant on staying here, then I can't make you leave. But I'm not waiting around here to be eaten by people who are supposed to be dead. And I'm sure as hell not letting you subject Kenny to that."

"We'll let him make that decision on his own," Amber challenged. She then turned her attention to me. "Kenny, you know it's not safe to get back out there on those streets. Don't do this, kiddo. We've never given you any reason to not trust us before, and it is crucial that you trust us now. It is dangerous outside."

I took a second to gather my thoughts, dreading that answer that I had reached. Amber, Rita, and the other officers at the R.P.D. have indeed treated me well, and there was no way I was going to deny that. Yet I couldn't bring myself to stay at the station with them, not while we could still escape the city.

"Amber, Rita," I said, acknowledging my co-workers carefully, "I want to leave town." The both of them reared back slightly in shock, unable to believe the words that were coming out from my mouth.

"W…why would you want to do something so crazy?" Rita asked. "Kenny, please, don't do this to yourself!"

"I promised Chris and Jill," I explained. "I told them over and over again that I would leave town before it was too late. And it's not too late."

"B-but …"

"And Cranky came all the way here to visit me and now he wants to get me out. I can't let him tackle the streets alone, especially when he's unfamiliar with the city's roads. He's likely to die out there without me."

Rita sighed, understanding my reasoning, although I hated Cranky at that moment for making me go. I could've easily let him go off on his own but my damn conscience wouldn't allow me to let a tourist tackle Raccoon's mean streets alone. "If you have to go," Amber said, holding a handgun in her hand, "then at least take this with you to protect yourself." She gently laid the gun down in my hands, forcing my fingers to close around the barrel.

"Thank you," Cranky said. The anger in his voice had quickly vanished, replaced with a genuine sense of gratitude, the way the words softly left his mouth. "Thank you both for understanding. You're welcome to come with us if you'd like. Really, we should all be leaving this place."

"As long as there are citizens to protect," Amber protested, "our place is here, in Raccoon City. As for the both of you …"

"Take some ammunition from the lockers downstairs," Rita told me. "Leave some for us though, we'll need it."

"We won't take much," I assured, considering we should be out of the city by nightfall.

Rita and Amber nodded solemnly. "You know the way to the ammunition storage," Amber said. "Good luck, you guys."

**XXXXX**

**September 23rd, 1998**

**Afternoon**

"They'll make it," Cranky assured me. "They're experienced police officers, trained with a variety of firearms. There's no way a zombie could stand up to the kind of firepower they can unleash."

I didn't respond. I wanted to stay and help out my co-workers, but I couldn't let Cranky go on his own. I couldn't leave him to fend for himself in a dangerous city that wasn't familiar to him. I wished he would've stayed behind at the precinct so that I could've stayed too, but in the end, if I were in his shoes, I'd be out of the city like a bat out of hell too. I couldn't blame him for his actions. In fact, I felt thankful that he was willing to wait for me.

I watched the yellow dashes on the road run past the window. Rita had given us a cop car to shuttle us out of the city, an action that Cranky and I thanked her profusely for. He was behind the wheel, trying to talk me out of my bad mood and keeping his eyes on the road at the same time. Before leaving, we raided the ammunition storage room, taking three boxes of handgun bullets and another two boxes of shotgun shells. That left me with 45 shots plus a magazine of fifteen more rounds for the handgun they gave me, and a total of 28 shells for Cranky's shotgun.

My cell phone rang in my pockets, snapping me out of my daze. I pulled it out of my pockets and flipped it open, putting the electronic contraption to my ear. "Hello?"

"Okay Kenny, I've got the list of booze I'm gonna need you to get me," a hyper, faced paced, high pitched voice called excitedly from the other line.

"Julie, is that you?"

"Duh, who else do you think it is? Anyway, I need some margarita mix, a mickey of vodka, two liters of orange juice …"

"Whoa, whoa …" I interrupted, slowing her down, "hold on a second. Don't you have bigger things to worry about at this point, Jules?"

"Like what?" she asked, sounding surprisingly bewildered.

"Like the damn zombies crawling all over town?"

"Zombies? Oh my GOD, Kenny, you're completely nuts. The streets are perfectly fine."

"WHAT!" I cried, nearly blowing off the roof of the police cruiser. "Jules – they fucking rampaged through my apartment last night."

"Zombies don't exist, Kenny …" she said, her words stressing under the tension caused by keeping her patience with me.

"Look, I've got no time to deal with Lisa's party right now," I said, changing the subject. "I'm on my way out of town."

"Hey, you promised to get us our booze!"

"Why don't you get someone else to do it if you're so stuck on having your party while the whole city is being ripped apart? Have you even asked Lisa if it was alright to hold the party at her house, anyway?"

"Lisa isn't here," Julie said. "She's spending some time with her puppy-dog, Jack Carpenter. She says his aunt is sick with the zombie virus. Oh my GOD, that uneducated fool. His aunt's probably sick after catching an STD after whoring herself out for a living. It's too bad for Jack, but hey, one less needle jabbing prostitute to worry about, huh? Anyway – I don't care if you're leaving town, Kenny – the booze is …"

"Is that all you can think about!" I screamed into the phone, having clearly lost my temper. "Jack's aunt is probably sick with the zombie virus and all you can do is bash him? The police are busy erecting barricades around the city, trying to protect the citizens, people are dying everywhere as we speak, monsters are roaming the city streets killing these people, and Umbrella hit men have captured Phil! And all you can think about is fucking ALCOHOL?"

"Why are you being such a dickhead all of a sudden?"

"Nothing personal, Julie, but right now, I've got bigger things to worry about! And if you had any brains, you'd turn on the news right now, or better yet – leave the damn city!"

"Whatever, if you're not going help us with Lisa's party, then you can forget about attending … LOSER!"

"WHORE!" I screamed back, but was only met with the click of the phone. She'd hung up on me.

"I take it we're not picking her up on our way out of town," Cranky noted.

"The fucking bitch," I seethed, rage tinting my vision red, "I hope she gets eaten."

"Oh, shit …" Cranky cursed as the cruiser pulled to a complete stop. I was still so angry with Julie that I hadn't noticed what had caused the cruiser to stop moving. Cranky turned around in his seat, putting the car in reverse, and it was that maneuver that snapped me out of my angry rage.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "This is the way out of the city! You're only going back the way we …" And then I noticed it. The road that would eventually lead us to the highway was barricaded. Large slabs of concrete and metal, much taller that the cruiser blocked our path.

"What the hell is that?" I asked, but I didn't expect an answer from Cranky. I knew the police were setting them up all over the city to prevent any zombies from getting to the uninfected citizens, but to block out a main road?

"Do you think we could try and scale that barricade?"

I shook my head. "I'd be too short to reach the top, even if I stood on your shoulders," I said. "Besides, even if I could, how do you think I'd be able to get you on the other side too?"

"We'll just have to find another way out of this place," Cranky said, shouldering his shotgun. He sighed. "Getting out of this place is going to be a lot harder than I'd expected."

**XXXXX**

**September 24th, 1998 **

**Early Morning**

I awoke from my slumber to a growling stomach. Opening my eyes, I realized it was dark outside. Cranky was still driving, bags heavy under his eyes as he struggled to keep them open, keep them on the road. Glancing at my watch, I read 4:37 am. We'd spent all of last afternoon making our way around the barricades until we secured a route out of the city. There was no time for dinner. We wanted out as soon as possible and dinner could wait until we made our escape from the city. But the barricades wasted the precious little time we had.

"The car's barely moving," I said, rubbing my eyes sleepily. "What's going on?"

"Traffic jam," he replied simply. "Look."

I raised my seat from the reclined position, stretching my arms above my head. Looking out the window, I noticed the small road was choked with cars, beeping angrily at something far ahead. "What the hell is going on out there?" I asked, straightening my back, trying to get a better look farther ahead.

"It doesn't look like we're going anywhere soon," Cranky said, clearly getting frustrated that all our progress had now come to this. Escape was so close, yet we were so far.

"I'm going to take a look," I said, undoing the seatbelt. "You stay here."

"I don't have a choice …"

I got out of the car and slammed the door behind me, waving in between the narrow spaces left between the crowded vehicles towards the edge of town. Early mornings at this time were typically cool, and I dare even say cold. But with all these cars crammed together on such a narrow stretch of road, the heat was suffocating. People hadn't even bothered to turn off their engines, in case whatever was causing the traffic obstruction lifted and they would peel off at a moment's notice. As I continued moving swiftly towards the front of the lineup, joining some other civilians on foot – some stepping out of their cars, others having simply walked to the edge of town, I bumped into someone – a tall man with a neatly combed brown hair and glasses. The fine wrinkles on his face told me that he was likely a baby-boomer, yet not enough that he'd be a senior.

"Mr. Hartley!" I said, out of surprise, though I knew he was working for Umbrella. But Mr. Jonathan Hartley, also known as Lisa's father, didn't seem like a bad guy. And a bad guy surely wouldn't be capable of raising a sweet girl like Lisa. Wait a second, Lisa said her parents were gone all the time and didn't even spend a second with her. That got me wondering. But still, I'd known Jonathan and Elizabeth Hartley from the time I'd first moved to Raccoon City. He was always excited to tell me about his projects on new kinds of medicines, how they work within the body, while Mrs. Hartley would lecture me on the importance of gardening, and how good for the soul it was. Since Lisa's decline in the social ranks of RCSS, I saw her parents less and less.

"Oh, Kenny!" he said excitedly. "What a pleasant surprise, running into you here. It's good to see you're trying to escape the city too! It's not safe here anymore, I tell you."

"Yeah," I laughed nervously, unsure of what to say to an Umbrella scientist, working with the same company who kidnapped Phil.

"Where are Mrs. Hartley and Lisa?" I asked curiously. He probably left them to die back in the city.

"Oh, just sleeping in the car," he said, pointing somewhere behind him. "I've just come out here to check out what the fuss is all about."

"Well fancy that," I said, "me too."

The two of us headed towards the front of the line, updating each other on what's been going on lately. I tried to get more information out of him, if he could reveal anything to me about his latest projects that he so eagerly used to mention to me. But this time, he was asking me all the questions, careful to avoid any aimed at him. I tried to reciprocate, but the guy was a good talker. I had barely managed to direct more than a few words in his direction by the time we'd reached the front of the congregation. It was especially warm here with not only cars, but now, people crammed together. A few people at the very front were screaming, and I could hear some banging going on, like fists on metal.

At first, I thought people were just causing a ruckus, beating on a stalled car that blocked the way, or something like that. But as we neared, I could feel my heart drop to the pit of my stomach, realizing that mobs of people near the front of the jam were banging their fists desperately on a barricade. Crumpled cars sat steaming at the very front of the line, damaged from trying to ram down the iron and stone barricade, which had been reinforced to be thicker and higher than any of the ones Cranky and I had encountered.

A whole slew of armed military soldiers stood on the opposite side toting semi-automatic weapons while transport trucks sat parked a few meters behind them, forming yet another barricade, in case anyone was successful at getting through the big one. Somebody, a small figure I could barely make out to be a young woman tiny enough to squeeze through between the horizontally stretched steel sheets, made it to the other side and began running for her life.

A loud gunshot cracked through the air, making everybody jump and the next thing I knew, the woman lay face down on the pavement, blood spilling from a wound in her skull. The roaring crowd stopped, absorbing the horrific sight we just saw.

A soldier standing just a few feet from the barricade held up a megaphone and began speaking into it.

"Citizens of Raccoon City," he called in a deep, echoing authoritative voice, emphasized by the megaphone he spoke into, "we repeated – nobody is to leave the city. Due to the mysterious flu making its way around town, it is for your safety and for that of the surrounding towns that Raccoon City is being quarantined. Nobody is to leave and those who dare challenge the authority of the federal government will do so at their own risk." He motioned to the body of the woman lying there, being disgustingly displayed there as a lesson to us all. I struggled to hold in the bile rising up my throat. What kind of barbaric country was I living in? Before I could think anything else, the soldier continued.

"The United States government, the State government, and the local government including city mayor, Michael Warren hereby declare Raccoon City under martial law."

Nobody spoke for a few seconds after that. Everyone stood with wide eyes and gaping mouths, trying to understand what had just been told to them – and I was not an exception. For a moment it felt as if time stood still, allowing us to savor the last few moments of our lives, the freedom slipping away from our fingertips, viciously yanked away by an elected government who we believed would shield us and protect us. But they had done the complete opposite. By quarantining the entire city, they were leaving us at the hands of the zombies and whatever monsters that now lurked through Raccoon City.

We were all going to die.


	18. Chapter 16: Regretful Goodbyes

Mr. Hartley took my shoulder unexpectedly in a sudden death grip. I winced and looked up at him, a taller, skinny, middle-aged scientist and noticed the perspiration coating his face. His calm, gentle visage was frozen in an expression of fear, a solitary representation of a stunning horror, while people around us started to panic. For a man responsible for sending Raccoon City to its horrible fate, I was surprised at his reaction. He took a deep gulp, Adam's apple bobbing down low in his throat and back up again, and looked at me, straining to keep his composure.

"It's going to be alright, Kenny," he assured me. Though I too was in desperate need of assurance, Mr. Hartley sure as hell wasn't the one to be giving it to me.

I nodded, understanding what he was trying to do, though I knew his words were a blatant lie. All around us, people were screaming, ramming themselves in desperation at the barriers, breaking bones, suddenly getting into brawls in their sheer panic. It was dangerous to stay there any longer so the both of us headed back to our respective vehicles. My mind told me to run, to get as far away as possible from this madness but my mind knew I was in the middle of it. The whole of Raccoon City was a viral, zombified madness from which there was no escape, now that the entire city had been quarantined and martial law declared.

Somebody sailed through the air and landed on the hood of a car beside which I walked. His face smashed into the glass, tempered cubes cutting into his skin. The mob of crazy people were making their way back now, fear evident in every pair of eyes that swarmed our way. For that moment, I temporarily forgot about the zombies and decided to make a run for it, pulling Mr. Hartley along with me.

"They gone mad!" he cried, over the wild screams of fear, anguish, and feral insanity.

"We're at the back of the lineup," I said, "so there might still be time for us to turn back into the city." I didn't really want to go back but it was only a matter of time before the zombies made it out here and at least back at the precinct, armed officers with a plethora of ammunition patrolled every corner.

"This is crazy!" Mr. Hartley said, observing the madness around him.

"Come with us back to the precinct," I said, "it's much safer there!"

"We're taking Lisa back to our home in uptown," he countered. "These crazy hoodlums won't dare set foot up there, where we'll be safe from them. Come with us, Kenny."

"It's much safer at the precinct," I replied, shaking my head. "We don't have time to argue about this, Mr. Hartley."

"Elizabeth and I aren't going home," he said. "We're going into work. Maybe we can find some medicines or even chemicals we could use as weapons. Uptown Raccoon is the safest we can be at this point."

"Safer than the police station?"

"The police don't know how to handle cadavers," he said with an all-knowing glint in his eyes. Of course he would know better than the police. Mr. Hartley was working with Umbrella, the company responsible for this whole mess in the first place. Hell, the guy could've even been directly responsible for the zombies. But now wasn't the time to place the blame on anyone. Regardless of who bore the responsibility, fact of the matter was everyone within the city limits were in the same sinking boat and our only hope of survival was to depend on each other, not like the crazy rioters.

"Are you going to tell anything to Lisa when she wakes up?" I asked.

"I don't want to scare her," Mr. Hartley said. "I'll keep the events of this morning a secret from her. But I won't keep the facts. She deserves to know that much. Lisa's got such faith in humanity, the poor girl. It'll break her heart, and scare her half to death if she ever finds out how the citizens reacted to the news. Promise me you won't tell her, Kenny."

"I won't have to," I stated bluntly, "she'll find out for herself in the following days, when news of our quarantine spreads."

Mr. Hartley didn't say anything. He just looked at his feet, understanding the sad truth of our situation. "We should get back to our vehicles," he said, changing the subject. "Stay safe, Kenny."

"You too."

We parted ways and I sprinted back to the police cruiser, where from a few yards away, I spotted Cranky looking rather confused behind the wheel, poking his head out from the driver's window, trying to get a better view of what was going on up in front. I dashed to the passenger door, pulled it open, tossed myself into the car and slammed the door shut behind me.

"Drive!" I ordered.

"We have nowhere to go!" he cried.

"I mean reverse!"

"What the hell's got you so worked up?" he asked, voice raising with tension. "What happened up there?"

"We have to get back to the precinct," I said. "I'll tell you everything when we get back there."

"No way," he replied, folding his arms stubbornly across his chest. "It took us over twelve hours to get here, taking detours around the damn barricades and there's no way I want to go back, not after we've come so far."

"Well this is the farthest we're going to get. They've quarantined the city!"

"They did _what!_" he cried, eyes practically popping out of their sockets. "They've left us to die with those freaks lurking the streets?"

I nodded gravely. "They've also declared martial law," I explained, "so it's pretty much every man for himself. That explains the craziness out there." I pointed in the direction of the igniting riot. "If it was dangerous in Raccoon before, it's even worse now. We've got panicked people to worry about too."

"I don't believe this," Cranky said, putting the car into reverse, not caring what civilian vehicle we rammed into. I remembered Officer Ryman saying something about the police cruisers being coated with armor plating for bullets, which made them moving shields, proverbially speaking. We had no problems carving our own path through other parked vehicles, some of them now set on fire by the rioters. "I come into this city expecting a nice reunion with my kid brother, meet a few ladies and just chill out and the next thing I know, I'm in the middle of a war zone, toting a fucking shotgun and trying to stay alive. What can I say, Kenny, you picked a great place to call your home."

**XXXXX**

We pulled up to the precinct, a heavy air of disappointment and a new sense of worry clogging our minds. Cranky and I didn't speak much on the way back, our morale shot down after having all our hopes destroyed when we reached the city limits. There were a few vehicles behind us, containing a few people who didn't go berserk upon the announcement of Raccoon's quarantine. We were the first wave of survivors to reach the police station that day, and we were definitely not going to be the last. Others were sure to follow once they heard that the R.P.D. were sheltering uninfected civilians.

Cranky parked the cruiser on the side of the street while I retreated to the backseat, shouldering our bags of unused ammunition. We'd need them if we wanted to survive, but there was no way of telling if it was enough to last us. We had no idea how long the quarantine would last and how long we'd have to defend ourselves against the monsters. Cranky followed me to the back seat of the car, offering to help with the bags.

"You're gonna kill yourself if you shoulder too much weight," he said extending a hand. "Let me help you with that."

Sighing with relief, I handed him the duffel bag – the one stocked full of the ammunition while he strapped on the shotgun. I tucked the handgun into the waistband of my jeans but Cranky then held out his other hand.

"You look like a thug," he said, one corner of his mouth lifting into a half smile. "Give me the handgun. And tuck in your shirt."

I surrendered the handgun over to him like he asked as we headed back towards the station, a line of citizens in tow. We reached the main gates, which had been boarded up pretty well. Behind them, in the courtyard of the establishment, police offers scrambled back and forth, reinforcing the boards, initially thinking we were zombies, I guessed, until they saw my familiar face stand right in front of the gates with a crowd of people behind me.

Officer McGraw was the first to approach, sweeping strands of brown hair out from his blue eyes. "Cranky, Kenny!" he called out. There was a tone of relief and happiness in his voice, probably for the first time that day. But then his tone changed. "You guys came back?"

"The street barricades got in the way," I reported regretfully, "and they've quarantined the city."

Officer McGraw's eyes went wide. "They … they did not!" he cried in disbelief.

Cranky nodded. "Nobody made it out. And the one woman who did got shot with an automatic rifle, right in the head." Cranky jabbed a finger at his temple to emphasize his point. "Right in front of everybody."

Officer McGraw's face twisted into a mask of disgust. "Who shot her?"

"The damn military guys did," I said. "And right after that, a huge riot started at the barricades. They probably shot the rioters too."

By now, our explanation had attracted the attention of the other officers, who now joined Officer McGraw at his side, gawking in shock at our story. The survivors behind us started speaking, accounting for their own experiences. Everything that was being said flowed consistently. There was no reason for a group of people this large to make up a lie like that.

"Can we come in?" I asked. "We have nowhere else to go."

"O…of course," Officer McGraw said, unlatching a chain of keys from his belt buckle. He fumbled around for the right one and unlocked the gate for us, hands trembling as he went. "So they've got everyone in the city trapped in here?"

"We're not allowed to leave," Cranky elaborated. "They're worried about the virus spreading beyond the city limits."

"Then who's going to help us with the monsters?" Rita cried. She was one of the officers who had joined the congregation, now wanting to find out more answers.

"They didn't say anything about sending people in to help," I explained, as the other officers led the civilians into the courtyard and towards the precinct's main doors. Cranky and I remained outside where we could further explain the situation to Officer McGraw and Rita. "But I'm sure they'll be sending in people. How can they let an entire city fend for itself in the face of monsters?"

"It's simple," Cranky interrupted pessimistically, "they don't believe in zombies and monsters."

"No …" Rita said, putting a hand to her open mouth. "If the government ridicules us the same way we did to the S.T.A.R.S., we're all done for!"

"Cause look at what happened to the S.T.A.R.S.," Officer McGraw added.

"This is terrible," Rita said, "just terrible."

"There's not much else we can do but hole up here and wait for help, then," Cranky said. "How much ammunition do we have?"

"There's a ton of it stocked up in the ammunition room down in the basement where you guys got your shotgun shells," Rita explained. "It'll probably last us a week, two at the most, depending on how often we have to use them."

"The more uninfected civilians we get in here, the less zombies we'll have to deal with," I said. "We should make an announcement to the city. Broadcast it all over town. Tell them the whole city's been quarantined at that we're gathering survivors."

"Whoa, there," Officer McGraw said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "You just calm down now, little fella. We'll get the city and its people taken care of. You just head on inside and ride this thing out, okay? You've already been through enough with all those attacks, and lately, your friend getting kidnapped. Remember that little girl you were talking to yesterday? Well she's gonna need some company and Amber's been watching her since you left. We're going to need Amber's help with the preparations so if you can take over the babysitting duties for her, that'll be great."

"Well, I can make myself useful too …"

"Officer McGraw's right," Cranky said. "I think you better get inside, Kenny. This isn't a place for kids."

"Oh my fucking God," I whispered under my breath. It was as if I hadn't gotten patronized around by Chris and now everyone else was doing it too. Unlike the girl they asked me to baby sit, I was in my mid teens. I was not as useless as they thought I was. I lived on my own for as long as I could remember – which I'm sure Cranky would disagree with since making his mysterious appearance in my life – and I walked to school and work. I was completely self reliant, responsible, hardworking, and I was able bodied. Well, I wasn't Hercules, but I was hardly a wimp either.

"Sherry's with Amber in the west office," Rita said. "Go in there and call Amber out here. We need her help." She turned her attention to Cranky. "You think we could borrow you again?"

He shrugged. "Well I'm not going anywhere now that I'm trapped here with you folks. Sure, I'll do what I can to make sure we all make it out alive."

**XXXXX**

This time I was careful when opening the door, careful that I wouldn't bash Amber again in the nose. She looked up at me from a seated position in front of Sherry, a confused expression set in her gentle features taking over a shared laughter between the two of them. Sherry looked at me with the same confusion but her face broke into a smile upon seeing me.

"Kenny," she said, smiling. "You came back!"

"Yeah, imagine that," I said scratching the back of my head.

"I was just gonna say the same thing," Amber commented, standing from her seat. "I take it you were unsuccessful at leaving town. I forgot to mention that roadblocks were being erected to prevent zombies from spreading all over town. There was a route we secured but …"

"It doesn't matter," I interrupted shaking my head. "We're not leaving Raccoon City."

Amber's expression softened and she put her hand on my shoulder. "You cared enough about us that you couldn't bring yourself to leave? That's very touching Kenny, but why would you make it all the way out of town and then …"

"We didn't make it out of town," I interrupted. "The military's blocked off all exits. We can't leave. Nobody can."

"W…what?"

"Cranky's out in the courtyard helping with the station's reinforcements," I explained. "They need your help out there. They'll fill you in on everything. I'll take care of Sherry."

"O…okay," Amber finally said, "thanks, Kenny. I'll go see what they need."

Amber left in a hurry, almost forgetting to close the door behind her. Sherry looked at me, her mouth moving to say something but no words were coming out. The golden pendant she wore around her neck was grasped between her two small hands, fingers rubbing hard against the polished metal as if it would sprout some genie. The poor girl looked terrified.

"Hey," I said, putting a hand on hers, "are you hungry? We can go get something good to eat."

"What did you mean?" she finally managed to say.

"I don't understand, Sherry."

"What did you mean when you said that nobody can get out of the city?" Tears were welling up in her large blue eyes now, threatening to spill over her bottom eyelids.

"Well," I replied, choosing my words carefully, "the army is keeping us safe in our homes. They're taking care of the monsters in the streets and they don't want us to go outside."

"How are we supposed to get out of Raccoon if we can't even go outside?" she inquired, the panic rising in her tone. Man, this girl was bright. She definitely deserved more credit than I was giving her, trying to calm to poor thing down with childish lies. Chris, and the others did the same to me, trying to keep me protected from the harsh realities of the world though I knew full well what the world was all about. And now I was doing it to Sherry. I knew how she felt being treated this way, and perhaps her childish demeanor for a twelve year old was attributed to that. If enough people tell you you're stupid, you'll believe it over time. And in this case, it was no different.

"The zombies are all over the streets and the military is afraid of them spreading the disease to neighboring towns," I said, holding back nothing. "So here's the plan – we hold up here at the precinct until the police kill every single one of those creatures. Then, once the government thinks we're clear of the virus, they'll lift the barricades and we can continue living happily ever after. So there, you have nothing to worry about."

"Oh …" she said, understanding the truth now. Well, only half of that was the truth. The rest was schemed in my little head. If the zombies were responsible for spreading the virus, that meant every person who made up Raccoon's population was zombie waiting to happen. And in the worst case scenario, the sheer numbers of those creatures would overpower the police force in no time, even if none of the officers got infected, even if we had enough ammunition to take out all the zombies, a city's population worth of them.

"So what do you say we go and get something to eat?"

Sherry's face brightened into a smile. "It's been awhile since I had a whole meal!" she said excitedly.

**XXXXX**

I took Sherry to the vending machines in the west wing of the precinct, where all the good stuff was. I wasn't into the greasy chips or chocolate bars, though she seemed more than eager to take what she could with the limited change in my pockets. I left my wallet in my suitcase, the same one I promptly forgotten about in the trunk of the taxi when I noticed the driver was a zombie. I opted for a coffee, since it'd been awhile since I had one and I was getting a little on the cranky side. My usual smoking spot around the corner and up the alley was out of bounds most likely since the gates of the station had been barricaded. The next best place to have a smoke would be on the rooftop but with all these officers crawling around everywhere, it might be hard to get away with it.

Of course, I realized they couldn't do anything to a minor who was smoking as they could only prosecute people who sold the smokes to me. Chris, Jill, Rita, Amber, and Marvin, and Officer McGraw were nice enough turn a blind eye to my smoking, although I'm not sure if any of the officers I wasn't as familiar with would. Well it was a risk I was going to have to take. It had been forever since my last one and besides, the cops might be too busy putting up the barriers to even notice me. Hell, I might end up giving some away to them!

"Would you like to go have a view of the city from the roof?" I asked Sherry.

She paused from digging through a bag of her nacho chips and looked at me with her wide blue eyes, cheeks crusted orange with powdered cheese. "Why would we want to do that?" she asked curiously. "We know what the streets look like."

"Put some distance between us and the zombies," I said. "We can observe their behavior safely from the rooftop. Find out if there are any patterns in their behavior, and just get more familiar with them so we're not so terrified the next time we see them."

Sherry looked at me nervously and shook her head. "I'd rather not deal with them any more than I have to," she said.

"Fine, then lets just go up there and enjoy the weather," I suggested. "I need to get out there and … get some fresh air."

"Do you smoke?"

"Don't tell anyone."

From the vending machines in the east wing of the office, we headed through the double doors that lead into the east office and outside to the emergency staircase from there. The helipad on the rooftop was only a quick walk down the second floor hallway and out a door.

The refreshing breeze served as an unanticipated but welcome relief from the air in the station. It was only then that I noticed just how hot and stuffy it was in there. But I'd failed to notice it before, given the recent events that unfolded. I hadn't been up to the roof since the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team left for their mission. And now that I think about it, that night seemed like the last night things in Raccoon City were alright, before people started dying en masse from the strange disease, or from being mauled by dogs, or being kidnapped.

Come to think of it, nobody seemed to speak of Phil's disappearance. I hadn't heard much from Justin since the incident as I had a lot of bullshit to deal with already. The cops weren't getting anything done, nothing new mind you. But it was understandable this time round, with zombies taking up most of their time. There was no time and we had no resources to send out troops working on missing people anyway. And with the recent developments, Phil was probably assumed to be dead already.

There was a girl who disappeared a few months ago in the same fashion and her name was Charlotte Lascelles, from our history class. She was best friends with Lisa, that is, before Julie came along. One day, Charlotte disappeared mysteriously. It had never been revealed to the rest of us what happened to her and we weren't even sure the teachers knew. But the way Lisa replaced Charlotte so quickly with Julie – hell, that was a big hint into her personality, what Lisa was like with her friends. Not sure why I didn't see it sooner …

Anyway, now I'm going off on a tangent. My mind has a way of wandering off in to space when I get too involved with my thoughts. And the look on Sherry's face revealed her confusion as I sat beside her, puffing away on a cigarette, the first one in days.

"You haven't moved an inch for the last few minutes," she told me. "Was it something I said?"

"Um, no," I replied quickly. "I was just thinking about … stuff."

"Why do you do that?"

"What, am I not allowed to think all of a sudden?"

"No," she replied, "I meant the cigarette." Sherry tipped her chin at the smoke between my fingers. "It's not good for you, and you know that. The commercials are all over TV."

"Right, let yourself get suckered into what the media wants you to believe," I shot back. "I bet our beloved pop stars are still virgins though their skanked out every opportunity they get to show their caked faces on camera."

"You're funny," Sherry said, giggling. She scooted over, tightening up the space between us on the floor of the helipad, pressing her shoulder against mine. The sudden show of affection caught me off guard, and I nearly dropped my smoke in surprise. "Thanks for keeping me company."

"Relax," I said. "After spending my time around old people for so long, it feels good to have someone younger to hang out with … even though you're just a big baby."

"Quiet, you." She hit me lightly on the shoulder and we both let out tired sigh, not saying anything for the next few minutes. We sat contently on the helipad, enjoying the breeze and staring off into the distance. The zombie moans from the distance would normally be sending chills down my spine at that point, but I suppose I'd gotten a little more accustomed to them during the last few weeks, and I barely noticed them anymore.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the cell phone, remembering my phone conversation with Julie. Any recollection of her caused a bitter taste to form in my mouth. She was an insensitive little bitch, wanting us to forget about the reality occurring around us, all for some birthday party that Lisa probably didn't even want to have. Julie couldn't even think for a minute that maybe she was intruding on Lisa's privacy, or even consider the fact that Jack was probably crying himself to sleep every night with worry now that his aunt, his only guardian was sick, and most likely from the zombie virus. At least have enough respect for the guy to leave him alone. But the way Julie spoke about the poor woman.

She was a prostitute, true. Jack's Aunt Rosa, I meant, not Julie – though that doesn't imply anything about Julie. But I knew his aunt wasn't doing it for pleasure. She had a responsibility towards the kid, one that she didn't have to take, but embraced wholeheartedly, and did whatever she could to make sure Jack led a somewhat comfortable life, even sold her own body for it. It was always the good ones who didn't deserve to die. And she was likely going to.

Lisa might need some talking to. She was probably worried enough about her own parents leaving her home alone the whole time, and talking to Sherry reminded me of that. Moreover, Jack was probably confiding in her now, having nobody else to talk to. Lisa might have been bearing Jack's emotional baggage along with her own as well. Losing the people they loved the most must've been a pretty big blow to them. But living on your own wasn't so bad. I never had anyone take care of me, though I was sure Cranky would challenge that claim. It was okay, though I couldn't expect Lisa and Jack to understand that. I felt like I had to do something, make them feel better about the situation. No way in hell I was going to call Jack, so I did the next best thing. I was going to call Lisa.

"Who are you calling?" Sherry asked, eyeing my phone.

"A friend," I replied. "I want to make sure she's alright." Now that I thought about it, I decided to call Justin too. He's been strangely quiet since Phil's disappearance and I was starting to get a little worried. When the zombie attacks first started hitting uptown, Justin's area was one of the first places hit. I hoped he was just sad, and not dead.

"I'm a little cold," Sherry said.

"Then go inside," I ordered. "I'll be with you in a minute."

**XXXXX**

It had taken me longer than a minute to rejoin Sherry. The conversation with Lisa had lasted a little longer than I had expected as she had a lot to say. I listened intently, getting her side of the story, wondering why nobody in her area of town seemed bothered by the zombies while the police station was scrambling to gather refugees escaping from the undead who seemed more commonplace now.

"What Julie told you was right," she explained. "Jack's aunt is sick with the virus. He's been so worried lately, and I tried to ask him if he needed me there, but I think he just wants to be left alone right now. There's nothing else I can do until he decides to come out of his shell, but I don't mind. I'm willing to give him as much time as he needs and when he's ready to talk, I'll be there."

"Jack really is special to you, isn't he?" I asked. "I can't remember the time you did this for any of us."

"I'll always be here for you too, Kenny," she said. "What you said to me at Julie's kiss-and-make-up party – it really hurt me at first. I couldn't believe I was hearing those things from you. But the more I thought about it, I realized you were right. I have been horrible to the girls. But you just don't understand that I never liked them to begin with. Julie just sort of … popped out of nowhere and all of a sudden we're officially best friends."

"And your real best friend?"

"Jack. Whatever animosity you felt from me was ill-directed. I guess it was just a spillover from what I had aimed at Julie. I never meant to hurt you, and I'm sorry if I did."

"Water off a duck's back," I said. "When you don' t have loving parents doting on you and rely on yourself to survive, other people are easily dropped. Once in awhile, you have to clean out your closet. Get rid of everything that hurts you. Keep everything that doesn't – until it does."

"I don't want you to end our friendship just because of Jack," Lisa protested.

"I didn't end our friendship, Lisa," I continued, "you did. Your naivety ended it all. You thought you could chase your new friend just because he was different than the rest of us, and that, somehow, made him better. You cast your loyal friends to the wind – stabbed us in the back. And I don't mean Julie and the girls. I'm talking about the guys too. Phil, Justin, Jamie, Paul, Alex, even fucking Milly, the new girl."

"But you know I didn't mean to … It's just that -"

"I don't care what you meant to do," I interrupted, angrier now that she was even _attempting_ to justify her actions. "I only care about what you did, without looking back to see the kind of damage you caused. Julie and Justin's relationship is only known as a sexual escapade because they'd slept together, before it had a chance to develop into something more. It would have, if your rift with the guys hadn't affected his opinion on you. And since Julie was so adamant about making you her official best friend, selfishly motivated or not, their differing opinions caused the split."

"How was I supposed to …"

"And then you replaced Justin and the guys with a faker like Julie," I interrupted a second time, the volume of my voice overpowering Lisa's, "accepting her as your best friend! And not only was that a blow on Justin's ego, but you didn't even LIKE Julie! By accepting her as your best friend, you were lying about your feelings to her face! And don't even get me started on how you didn't even lift a finger to find out how Charlotte disappeared. And she was supposedly your best friend before Julie."

"B-but you …" Lisa stammered, sounding like she was about to cry.

"Was it because of your fascination with Jack that you abandoned Charlotte? Why hadn't you bothered finding out what happened to her? I didn't even hear you mention her ONCE since Jack came along. For her best friend, the mysterious circumstances surrounding her disappearance sure didn't seem to trouble you. Or were you pretending with Charlotte too, like you were with Julie?"

"Don't you dare criticize my friendship with her!" Lisa screamed angrily. She was clearly crying now, her sobs slightly audible from between her words.

"And don't you dare try to justify that, too!"

"How dare you accuse me of all of this! I never did anything to you!" Lisa was sobbing almost uncontrollably, unable to contain the anger welled up inside her. I was slightly impressed with myself. I could really push the girl's buttons.

"ME?" I cried. "I wasn't going to bring myself into this, but now that you've brought it up – I didn't show I was hurt and that's because I wasn't. But that doesn't mean you didn't do anything to me. I just came to the conclusion that you decided you stopped being my friend and dropped you. Out of my life, just like that. Not unlike a fly."

"I never said I stopped being your friend!"

"Who fucking cares what you said? It's what you did, or in this case, what you didn't do! The phone calls, the weekend visits, trips down to the river, and just hanging out, all of that stopped for no reason the moment you met Jack. It just STOPPED, Lisa, for no reason!"

"You have to understand that Jack had nobody to stand by him, while he suffered at the hands of the uptown kids!"

"Standing up for a stupid, defenseless dog does not mean turning your back on your friends!"

"If you had a damn heart," Lisa accused, "you'd have a shred of sympathy for Jack. You call me heartless but why don't you take a good look in the mirror."

"I HAVE, Lisa," I countered, "and I saw someone in a worse position than Jack, someone who lived on his own without guidance, without anyone to protect me from my worst fears, nobody to kiss the wounds and make them better, nobody to tuck me in when I was sick, left to fend for myself with an allowance of four grand a month. And where was my sympathy from you, Lisa? Where?"

"I …"

"WHERE!"

My throat was hoarse from screaming so much at her. I was starting to scare myself now, not realizing that my anger had been pent up for so long inside. I always thought I was able to drop people from my life without looking back. But there was obviously something going on in my subconscious that wasn't willing to let go of people so easily; a part of me that was angry, and wanted answers. But Lisa couldn't give any answers, as I had expected.

"Like I said," I continued, "every so often, you have to clean out your closet. Trash the negatives, keep the positives. And actions as of this conversation, as in trying to justify what you did to your friends, have been inexcusable. And what's worse, you couldn't even do that. And if Julie's interested in pursuing a friendship with you, I suggest you come out and tell her the truth – how you really feel about her. The girl's about to throw you a party. I know all there is to know about you now, Lisa. I thought you weren't like this, that this was only a phase, but now that I reflect on everything, I realize it was you all along. So you can consider yourself trashed."

She didn't say anything. I could only hear breathing on the other end, so at least I knew she'd heard everything I said and hadn't hung on me. I was surprised she hadn't, actually.

"Oh, and Lisa," I said, almost forgetting something. "Happy birthday." The words were thick with sarcasm.

She let out a sob that broke my heart. I had to hang up the phone so she wouldn't hear the guilt-driven apology spilling from my mouth. But I wish I hadn't done that, though. It pains me, looking back, to realize that the agonized sob was the last I would hear from Lisa Hartley.


	19. Chapter 17: Strange Voices

**September 25th, 1998**

**Morning**

The night was spent in the S.T.A.R.S. office, now just a vacant shell of what it used to be. Jill had resigned from the unit, though her belongings remained right where she'd left them. She's probably been too busy trying to stay alive instead of clearing out her stuff from the office. Chris and Barry were gone, headed off to Europe. He made me promise him that I'd leave town before things got too out of whack, but it was too late for that. I was trapped in Raccoon with the other citizens, surviving day to day while the local government struggled to restore order. Their efforts were in vain.

Sherry and I slept by Rebecca's desk. She'd recently left the city around the same time Chris and Barry did, but she never disclosed her plans to me. I didn't even know if she was with the S.T.A.R.S. anymore or not. The only thing certain was that she was out of the city where it was safe.

I awoke to find myself beside Sherry, who was sleeping comfortably on her side, her head resting on clasped hands. She was snuggled close to my side and I had an arm flung carelessly across her body. My side and my neck ached from the awkward position I found myself in. Lord knew how long I'd spent in that position. My joints cracked as I moved slowly to my feet, yawning loudly the whole way. I stretched my arms above my head and wow – it felt so good. The office lights were off, though I could tell coming from underneath the door that it was daylight outside. I shuffled over to the switch and threw it, rubbing the salty crust from my eyes. Running my tongue over my teeth, I could feel a disgusting film of plague caked on them. When was the last time I'd brushed my teeth? The light assaulted my eyes and I had to blink a few times to get them used to the sudden brightness. Sherry, however, remained unaffected, still soundly sleeping on the cardboard boxes by Rebecca's desk.

Chris's green diary caught my eye. I remembered spotting it the other day when I caught Jill crying alone here, the day she quit the force. I wanted to read it, to find out exactly what he found out during his travels, but Jill's presence prevented that. I knew it wasn't polite to read other people's personal writings, but this was huge – there was information in there that could potentially explain whatever was going on in town. And with the way the situation was right now, my curiosity overcame any moral obligations. And Jill wasn't around to stop me. Sherry was sleeping. I was pretty much home free.

Heading over to Chris's desk, I planted my butt in his swivel chair and picked up the diary from the desk. Spinning playfully in his chair, I opened up the hardcover book and found pages of paper stained yellow over its years of use. The material was slightly wrinkled, caused by Chris's scribbles that could somehow be called handwriting. I squinted at the black curves, trying to make words out of them while getting a feel for Chris's handwriting. And after a few minutes, I was somewhat successful.

Just as I was beginning to understand what was written – something along the lines of Umbrella being behind everything, conducting illegal experiments on various creatures – Brad burst in through the door. Bradley Vickers, or Chickenheart, as he was better known throughout the precinct, was a member of the S.T.A.R.S. team and served as their pilot. His usual neat, back combed brown hair was a chestnut colored array of tangles. His face was red as he panted for air. His skinny body was hunched over slightly as sweat dripped from his chin and onto his yellow sleeveless vest. Brad's army fatigues were caked with mud, darkening the fabric in various places, much like the bags under his eyes did to his complexion.

"Officer Vickers," I called, surprised to see him, only because I hadn't encountered him since the S.T.A.R.S. returned from their mission. I assumed he went into hiding, given his reputation and didn't bother asking any questions. But considering Jill was the last S.T.A.R.S. member left and she'd just quit the other day, I wondered what he was doing here.

"Kenny …" he said, gasping for breath, "you've got to get Jill here."

"Jill's not here anymore," I explained as his eyes widened in shock at the news.

"What do you mean she's not here? What happened to her?" His lower lip trembled with worry, as if he was about to cry. "Is Jill okay?"

"If you wanna call sad okay," I replied. "She just quit the other day."

"Oh, thank goodness," he sighed, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. "But I'm not sure if it'll slow the thing down."

"Slow what down?" I asked. Given the severity of Brad's panicked state, I wanted to know what it was that had him so worked up. And his babbling wasn't making any sense. "What are you talking about, Officer Vickers?"

"She has to leave town," he explained, still trying to catch his breath. "I came as soon as I heard. Jill's in trouble. All of the S.T.A.R.S. members are. They've sent something after us."

Brad's urgency in his tone made him a little louder than the timid pilot everyone knew, and only I knew of. He was loud enough to have woken Sherry up and the girl now sat on the boxes by Rebecca's desk that we'd fallen asleep on. She'd been rubbing her eyes until she sensed Brad's panic through his voice and started looking terrified. At that age, anything that worried an adult must've been bad, only she wasn't familiar with his jumpy personality.

"You're scaring the poor girl," I told him, motioning over to Sherry. "Maybe we can talk outside?"

"Kenny, you don't need to know just what kind of creature is after us," he explained. "All I can tell you is that it's dangerous and knowing about it could put you in danger."

"You're starting to talk like Chris," I said. "If you haven't noticed, this city is crawling with zombies. We're all in danger."

"This thing isn't a regular zombie," Brad insisted.

"A zombie that's only after S.T.A.R.S. members?" I asked, and he nodded gravely in response. "It doesn't sound like that big of a deal if it's only one zombie. It's the whole swarm of them I'm worried about."

"Where's Jill?" he asked, not wanting to continue the conversation any longer. Just as well. I wasn't interested in entertaining his imagination.

"I don't know. I haven't seen her since she left the station on her last day, but she checks on me once in awhile so I assume she's still at home."

"What number does she call from?"

"I don't know, I don't have call display on my phone. Come to think of it, she could be contacting me from anywhere." And I never bothered asking her because I always just assumed she was at home. But if Umbrella really was behind this whole mess, then maybe she had reason to be using someone else's phone. "Maybe you could ask Officer Bernstein," I suggested, the idea coming to my head in a flash. "They're pretty close, Jill and Amber. She might know."

"Good idea," he said, flashing a thumb's up. "I've got to find her, and quickly too. I've gotta run, Kenny. You stay safe. Don't leave the station."

Before I had a chance to respond, Brad was out of the door with a slam echoing off the empty walls of the S.T.A.R.S. office. I turned to Sherry, whose eyes were now watering, lip trembling with fear. Her body was rigid, as though she was trying to control it from shaking too violently. Her efforts were visible in with the slight shaking of her limbs.

"What's he scared of?" she asked in a high pitched voice.

"Nothing that you should be thinking about," I said. "It's morning. We should see if we can find some breakfast."

Sherry shook her head stubbornly. "I don't want to leave this office. It's dangerous out there."

"Oh for crying out loud, we're not going outside. We're just going to take a trip downstairs and see if there's anything we can find to eat. You're probably sick of chips by now and besides, they're not very healthy. Maybe we can find a cup of instant noodles or something." I held out my hand to encourage her.

She took a hesitant step towards me and took my hand into hers.

"What are you afraid of?" I asked.

"Don't leave me alone, Kenny," she pleaded. "I've been on my own enough for the past little while and I just want to be with someone now."

"What about Amber? Didn't she take good care of you?"

"I like Amber," she replied. "She's very nice to me. But she's also busy working with the other police people and she can't spend all her time with me."

"Now what would a big girl like you need someone hanging around you all the time for?"

"To keep the monsters away," she said simply.

"Christ, there's no such thing as …" Wait. I'd been so used to saying that my entire life but then I remembered that Raccoon City, especially now, was a city that defied popular belief. "Just stay close," I said, and we walked out of the office in search for some breakfast.

**XXXXX**

I'd just popped in some change into the machine, which was slowly depositing a bag of chips into the slot. Sherry and I waited eagerly. She was pressed up against the glass, deforming her nose against the clear surface while I tapped my foot on the ground impatiently. Finally, the bag fell and just as I was bending to retrieve it, I felt a new presence behind me.

Two, to be exact. Amber and Officer McGraw were walking up towards us, probably heading over to the blue doors of the east office. Sherry were at the vending machines just beyond there.

"Good morning, kids," Officer McGraw said cheerfully. But his tone defied his appearance. His short brown hair was tangled and unkempt, his blue eyes sported dark bags underneath, and he had growth of stubble sprouting on his chin and throat. Amber was looking a little more well rested, though her underlying expression revealed stress. Then again, it was the same story with the rest of us.

"I'm sorry we don't have anything healthier to eat in this joint," Amber apologized, approaching us.

"Food's food, right?" I shrugged.

She went down on one knee and patted Sherry on the head. "How are you holding up, honey?" she asked sweetly. "I promise you'll get to go home soon, when all the monsters are gone from the streets." Amber and I made I contact just then. The look of uncertainty, the low gaze, everything told me she wasn't even sure if what she said was right. But at the moment, that's what it seemed because it seemed to ease Sherry a little.

"You've been watching her well, Kenny?" Officer McGraw asked.

"Yes, sir," I nodded. "I found some cardboard boxes upstairs in the S.T.A.R.S. office. "We slept on those."

"Hmm," he said, scratching his head, "you could have used the beds in the night watch room."

"Absolutely not," Amber protested, getting back to her feet. "The hallway there hasn't been secured yet. There've been plans to get the electric shutters down but the cables need to be replaced. Until we can get that hallway completely protected, nobody is to spend the night there."

"Sounds scary," I whispered to Sherry, trying to scare her.

"Anyway, you two find something to keep yourselves occupied," Officer McGraw said.

"Where's Cranky?" I asked.

"He's out helping with the barricades," was the reply. "Cranky hasn't stopped working since you guys came back yesterday. Tell him he's gotta get some rest. We could really use him against any fights against the freaks on the street, but he'd be a lot more useful when he's rested."

"Sure," I replied.

Officer McGraw and Amber bid us goodbye and returned to their work, leaving me and Sherry alone once against in the east lobby. We looked at each other with childish grins spread across our faces.

"So, you wanna go check out the _basement_?" I asked, emphasizing the basement. "It's pretty dark and scary down there." Of course, this was all in good fun. It might have been dark and scary, and even more so now that we had zombies running all over the place, but we were in the police station, a secured building. We were pretty much safe enough to start playing childish mind games and dares on each other.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Sherry said, as I smirked in victory. But the smile quickly faded when she added, "I don't see you bringing and extra pair of pants."

"Ooh, is that a dare?" I asked.

**XXXXX**

To get down to the basement, we had to pass through the east office, but fortunately, Amber and Officer McGraw were too busy to notice us sneak through. We were headed for a little insignificant door on the opposite side of the office, just behind the police captain's office.

I unlocked the door and headed through into the forbidden hallway Amber was talking about. Just on the other end of this hallway was the stairs leading down into the basement. Sherry fell into step behind me as we proceeded down the row of windows. It was daylight outside and there was nothing spectacular to see on the street. Right now, they looked deserted, but we both knew the zombies could've been anywhere out there, the thought proving to be quite unsettling to the both of us.

As I passed every window, I tried looking behind the cars parked along the side of the street, trying to see from every new angle if there was some kind of zombie or monster hiding behind it, though I knew they were far to tactless to think of something so sneaky. What had Amber so afraid of the windows in this hallway?

I approached one of the windows and rapped on it with a knuckle. With every knock, I felt the glass shake violently within the window panes and I'd hardly been using all my strength. It wouldn't take much to shatter them.

"What are you doing?" Sherry asked inquisitively. She gave me a funny look, and I realized I must've appeared quite strange to her, walking up to a window and knocking on it without any motivation.

"I just want to see how easy these are to break," I replied. "If the zombies try to come in, this is the only thing stopping them."

"How reliable are the windows?"

"Not very. Now I can see why Amber wanted us to stay away from here."

"Maybe we should go back."

"I'm sure they have a change of pants in the night watch room," I said, winking.

Sherry ran ahead of me and zipped down the stairs into the basement with speed I'd never seen a mere twelve year old child possess.

"Hey, wait up!" I called out, feeling the panic suddenly rise. I wasn't worried anything was going to happen to her. I was more afraid of the fact that she was my responsibility and she was getting out of my sight.

"Come and catch me, Kenny!" she called excitedly from the basement.

"Hold on!" I cried. "You don't know your way around here!"

I flew down the stairs, skipping steps when I had to and found myself in the quiet darkness of the basement. The passage extended a few feet forward and turned left abruptly. I followed the path and looked further down, not seeing Sherry there. She'd probably ran around a corner or something.

"Sherry," I called out. "I'm not playing anymore. Get back here now." I waited for a response, but none came. Of course, she was using the darknes of the basement to her advantage. She was going to get me all worried about her and right when I turned a corner, she was going to jump out and yell boo and scare me half to death.

I decided to turn it around on her and waited a few more seconds without speaking. I headed softly towards the end of the passage, where it split off into left and right paths along a corridor of doors which led to the weapons locker where Cranky and I were yesterday, the power room, the parking garage, and the sewers. I didn't know whether Sherry and turned left or right, so I just leapt out of the shadows and gave the loudest, scariest growl I'd even given.

"GRRAAAAGGHH!" I yelled and sure enough, Sherry had stumbled backwards from her own spot, ready to surprise me.

"No fair!" she whined. "You knew what I was going to do!"

"GRRRAAAAGGGHH!" came another yell.

"Okay you're not funny anymore, Kenny," she said, putting her hands angrily on her hips.

"Uh, Sherry, that wasn't me," I said, eyes darting left and right nervously.

"What?" she suddenly jumped at me, pulling herself tightly against my waist. "Then, who said that?"

Chills were already making their way up and down my spine. Her guess was as good as mine. But to me, it wasn't a matter of who growled, but what? It sounded vaguely human, but there was no person who possessed such a rumbling powerful bass. And suddenly, it screamed again, forcing my heart to start beating so powerfully, I thought it would beat its way out of my chest. It wasn't the scream so much as what it had said …

"S… Sh … Sherry!" in that same, animalistic bass.

I looked down at the girl, expecting her to be terrified beyond belief. But there was a look of concern on her face instead. She looked up at me, her lower lip trembling.

"T…that's my daddy!" she cried excitedly. "Kenny, we have to help him!"

Before I could say anything, Sherry darted in a random direction. She had no idea where I was going, but good thing I did. The hallway was dark but I could make out enough familiar features of the scary basement to figure out where we were going. She was headed towards the double doors on the left wall at the end of the corridor which would lead us to a dead end outside. If we wanted to go any further, we'd have to either scale the smooth cement walls and onto the street, or head into a manhole and into the sewer.

"Sherry, get back here now!" I ordered, but my words fell upon deaf ears. She wasn't going to return to me anytime soon, as long as she remained hopeful that her father was nearby.

She ran out the front double doors, and out into the open. I crashed through them seconds later, only to find her looking around in confusion. "It's a dead end," she said.

"You should never run off like that!" I scolded, taking her by the shoulders. "We're outside and it's dangerous out here. Let's go back in …"

It was a dark shadow that had silenced me. Sherry and I looked up at the source of the shadow and felt Sherry cling onto me tightly. And even as I describe to you what I saw, it feels like I'm relating something from a nightmare. But it was all too real. Standing up a full storey above our heads on the street was a monster. It looked like a zombie at first, but there was no disguising its bulk. Tattered fabric was draped over this creature's shoulders. It looked as if it had absorbed a blonde haired man into its shoulder. There was no telling where the man ended and the monster began. The rest of the creature was made up of a reddish brown muscle – no skin. The most recognizable feature was the large, elongated arm. It had grown as long as its body, strange claw-like appendages dragging along the pavement. And where the bicep of the arm would have normally been, there was a large eyeball that glared at us. I wondered for a moment whether or not the monster could see out of that eyeball.

It was difficult, but somehow we didn't scream. We were probably too afraid to scream. But I clamped my hand over Sherry's mouth and we dashed back inside, closing the door behind us as quietly as I could. We were finally back in the safety of the police station, though I was sure that given the size of the monster we just laid eyes on, it was probably strong enough to smash the door down. Well, not if it didn't know we where here …

"T…that was a …" Sherry whimpered, burying a face into my side. I pulled her in closer and rubbed her shoulder, hoping to provide some form of comfort, but I was in no shape to be that kind of a provider, especially not after what I saw. Could that creature have been the one responsible for calling Sherry's name? Maybe it was that man that hung off its shoulder that had called. Maybe that man was her father. The sudden image of that grotesque zombie being able to pronounce words perfectly chilled my bones. No – we had to get out of here and report what we saw.

But then I paused. Would the staff take me seriously? They joked around enough about zombies when the S.T.A.R.S. first reported them, but now they knew they should've believed them. But I was coming up to them with a completely new story of giant monsters with eyes in their arms. And even worse, the officers would be hearing it from a teenager and a scared little girl. They'd probably think this was some kind of a prank.

I had to tell someone who knew me, someone how trusted me. Well, Amber, Rita and Kevin fit those descriptions. Only problem was that Kevin was gone, hopefully running around with that same group of survivors he was reported as being seen with and still protecting them. That only left Amber and Rita. And since Officer McGraw was such good friends with Amber, maybe he'd believe her. And wait a second, Cranky said he knew me from a really long time ago. So he would know that I never lie … unless of course, I was a different person back then than I am right now.

"D…daddy must have been attacked by the monster," Sherry said suddenly, breaking my train of thought.

"No, Sherry," I said, "don't you believe that for a second." No, the truth was I didn't think her father would've been attacked by the monster. There was no way that voice that called her name could've even been remotely human, and Sherry had recognized it as his voice. I was willing to settle with the theory that the thing had once _been _human, but nothing more. And then it suddenly dawned on me that perhaps the monster was her father. Maybe it could smell her. But since it couldn't see her, the thing decided to call her name. But if it could smell her …

I suddenly picked Sherry up and ran back upstairs, suddenly wishing we hadn't come to the basement at all. Maybe Amber had a point. Maybe this hallway just deserved to be deserted.

**XXXXX**

**September 25th, 1998**

**Nightfall**

Aside from the incident this morning, the day went by pretty uneventfully. Well, as uneventful as Raccoon City had been in recent times, anyway. There were screams on the street every so often, and a few zombies who had wandered too close to the precinct had been gunned down. I was ordered by Amber, Rita and Officer McGraw to stay inside, so I had to miss all the zombie shooting action. They even gave Cranky a gun. Now, that wasn't fair. If I could kill zombie dogs with textbooks, imagine what I could to do zombies with a gun!

I had decided to keep what I had seen from the others. I decided that hopefully the creature would stay away from the precinct. And besides, it didn't look very aggressive. The police would be better off saving their limited ammunition for the real threats – the zombies and what not. But knowing what the virus did to living things, perhaps I should have told them about the giant monster. Something that huge and aggressive was designed to do a lot of damage.

The same scenario played out in my head all day, repeating itself over and over to the point where I'd spent so long thinking about it that I never actually got around to telling anyone. Although right now, I had the perfect chance.

The others had gone to sleep and I was alone with Officer McGraw in the courtyard. He had the unfortunate task of night watch. And I couldn't sleep due to my dilemma and decided to spend some time chatting it up. Officer McGraw turned out to be a pretty nice guy. Not that I hadn't expected him to be one, but he was always patronizing me, whether he knew it or not. Kinda like what Chris did. Then again that didn't really separate him from all the other officers. They all patronized me and it was pretty tough. The only person who treated me with any sort of grown up responsibilities was Amber and I was glad she was around. Word has it that she was really tight with the downtown kids, but she never confirmed any of that to me. I don't think I'd want any confirmation either. Anyone with involvement with the downtown kids was bound to start up trouble.

Anyway, Officer McGraw told me about his family, how they were all destined to be the defenders of mankind like it was some kind of heroic family tradition. As he explained his grandfather's involvement in World War II, it got me thinking about my own ancestry. What would an old Chinese man have been doing in those days? Was my grandfather a military hero like Offcer McGraw's was? Or was he a helpful soldier who fought the Nazis?"

"Your grandfather wouldn't have faught the Nazi's," Officer McGraw explained. "He would've been fighting against the Japanese, assuming he was a soldier to being with." Yeah, he was right. Looks like I hadn't been paying attention in Mrs. Bietelbaum's class after all. I had a smoke when I was with him and offered him one, though he refused. He said it was bad for me and that I should quit. Patronizing – again.

We started talking about his relationship with Amber and I remember pressing with questions demanding answers that would eventually reveal something about their love.

"So how often do you guys go out?" I asked.

"We've only ever gone out on patrol together," he said. "Is that what you mean?"

"Come on, you know what I mean," I continued.

"Well in that case, no. We haven't done anything. Why do you keep asking me? Do you think I'm keeping something from you?"

"No, I'm just curious," I said.

"Well for someone who's curious, you seem pretty intent on believing there's something going on between Amber and I. Well let me tell you now, there's absolutely nothing going on between us. We're just friends, that's all. It just so happens that when Joseph died, she I was the one who helped her get through it the best and our friendship grew because of that. Amber's not ready to have anyone take Joseph's place, and I, for one, have no need for a girlfriend right now. So I hope that answers your question."

"Yeah, I guess it does."

Officer McGraw shook his head smiling the whole time. "I swear you kids. Don't you get enough gossip at school?" I let out a laugh and the conversation continued well into the night, and into the wee hours of the morning. It was nice to know that even in the hell that Raccoon City had turned into within the last few days, it was still possible to sit down and enjoy a good laugh, and even forge some new bonds.


	20. Chapter 18: Brotherly Love

**September 26th, 1998**

**Late Morning**

Sherry was fast asleep in the S.T.A.R.S. office when I made my exit, not wanting to interrupt her sweet dreams to our morbid reality. Through the darkness, I could see the corners of her lips curled upwards into a slight smile, probably dreaming of more peaceful times with her family, before her father became that crazy monster we spotted yesterday. I wasn't sure if she recognized that humanoid thing attached to the monster as being her father, or anybody remotely familiar to her and I prayed that she didn't. Deciding it would be better for her fragile young psyche, I chose not to bring the topic up anymore and distract her with childish conversations and games. In a way, it helped me to forget about my own troubles and trust that the officers around me were handling our perilous situation with the utmost professionalism.

I opened the door and was greeted by the sight of Amber, just as she was reaching for the knob. I looked at her, sleepy eyed and she gave me a warm smile.

"Did you two sleep well?" she asked, rubbing her hand through my tangled hair.

"As well as the cardboard boxes would let us," I replied honestly. "What are you doing up here? I thought you were helping out with the barricades."

"I was," she said, "but I wanted to take Sherry off your hands for a little while. I need a change of pace and from the look on your face, you might need one too."

"Thanks, Officer Bernstein," I said gratefully. "I like Sherry, but I can only be a babysitter for so long."

"Go see if you can help around the precinct," she suggested. "I know how much you want to help but the other officers don't seem to think you can handle it."

"Well, high school kids can't do much except gossip and beat each other up, you know," I replied, my tone thick with sarcasm. "I'll go see if anyone needs help. With all due respects Amber, you don't look very good right now."

"Gee, it was that obvious, huh?" she asked, wiping a hand across her face. "The coffee's been doing a good job keeping me awake."

"I think you could benefit from a little sleep."

"Good call, doctor," she said, smiling. "You recommend those cardboard boxes?"

"It's the Hyatt," I joked.

I bid Amber goodbye for now and headed for the library, where the civilians we had arrived with were kept. Emergency blankets and dried food wrappers were all over the wooden floors of the library. It was a mess in here. Children were crying, people looked like they had just gotten up from bed, and some adults were even wandering around aimlessly contemplating their situation as the floorboards creaked beneath their every step.

Officer McGraw made his rounds around the room, making sure everyone was as comfortable as they could be, handing out bottled water to the civilians, making small talk with people here and there. There wasn't much else to do with the barricades set up, but we had no idea of telling how well they would hold against the zombies out on the street. So far, there had been a few attempts by the undead to get onto the property but were promptly shot upon sight. It was never a big deal, perhaps one or two, or a group of five at the most. But there was never any reason for them to come en masse, considering most of the people were kept inside, away from their undead noses. The only people outside were the officers on guard, watching for any more civilians who might need protection against the zombies roaming the streets.

"Good morning, Kenny," Officer McGraw said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "It's good to see you're up bright and early this morning. You went to bed pretty late last night."

"Yeah, it's the last time I drink coffee before going to sleep. Next time, I'm switching over to decaf."

"Have you seen Amber around?"

"Ooh, why do you ask?" I questioned with a sly grin on my face. Officer McGraw rolled his eyes at me.

"Alright, enough of your taunting. We're in love, okay? All those time we went on 'patrol', well, you get the picture. Satisfied?"

"Haha, I knew it!"

He shook his head and socked me lightly in the shoulder. "I swear, you kids. Alright, enough joking around. Where is she?"

"Taking care of Sherry," I replied, cocking my head in the direction of the S.T.A.R.S. office. "She told me to come find someone to give me something to do. And I found you. So … what do you want me to do?"

"Just stay here and make sure things are alright with the civilians," he said, handing me the bottled water he carried in his arms and armpits.

"Mmm, B.O. brand, my favorite."

"Nothing like going au naturale, I say," he said, elbowing me lightly. "Make sure to keep these people hydrated and if you need a bottle, feel free to have one for yourself."

"And if I run out?"

"Pray that doesn't happen."

"Well tap water seems just as good, no?"

"With the virus running throughout town? I wouldn't risk it. Don't drink any tap water without boiling it for ten minutes first, okay?"

"Understood, sir."

"Good."

**XXXXX**

**September 26th, 1998**

**Afternoon**

I made my rounds, handing out water to whoever asked, and I must say that was the most boring job I've ever hand. At least when I was delivering coffee and doughnuts to the S.T.A.R.S. members, they made an effort to make me feel welcome in their humble office, even treating me to some of their doughnuts every so often. But these people were terrified, stressed, dirty and grumpy and nobody was interested in having a conversation. Everyone just whined about when they'd be able to go home.

I found Cranky sitting on an emergency blanket, trying to make conversation with a pretty blonde girl, probably in her early twenties. His efforts were shut down as she turned away from him, not interested in entertaining someone who was clearly trying to get into her pants and laid down to rest. He pouted like a child at her reaction, stood up, and walked away from her – towards me.

"Hey, Kenny, haven't seen you in awhile," he said.

"You've been working hard, I hear," I said, going by what Amber and Officer McGraw had told me yesterday.

"I think the station's safe enough now," he agreed, "at least as safe as I think it could be. So I decided to take a break last night. How are you holding up?"

"Honestly," I said, shrugging, "I'm starved. I'm sick of bagged chips. I want a steak with a pile of mashed garlic buttered potatoes and a platter of deep fried chicken wings in front of me."

"I want a T-bone steak in a burger," Cranky agreed, "and a medium pepperoni pizza with cheese filled crust and a jug of beer." He held up a piece of fruit leather. "But this is all we've got for now."

"Hey, listen," I said, changing the subject because I was getting a little too hungry, "thanks for coming to get me out of here. I was a little stubborn, I'm sure you realized, but I never really got to say thanks. So … there you go."

"I was willing to drag you out of here by your hair," he said, nodding his head.

"I guess it's my fault we're stuck here now, isn't it?" I continued. "You don't deserve to be stuck in this mess and if it wasn't for me, you'd be beyond the city limits and …"

"Hey, quit it," he said sternly. "I don't want to hear anymore of this from you. I swore that I wouldn't let anything happen to you. And I'd rather stick to that promise than let you die here, alone, in this hellhole." From the questioning look I gave him, Cranky could sense my confusion. I'd never seen him before in my life, yet this stranger, who was quickly becoming a friend, seemed to know everything there was to know about my personality.

"I've gotta ask you …"

"Memory wipe," he answered my question before I could ever utter it. I gave him a blank stare in response, while he elaborated. "That's what you went through nine years ago. It was a memory wipe. That's why you can't remember anything before you were six years old. That's when it happened."

His answer wasn't what I was expecting. What kind of garbage was he throwing at me? A memory wipe? Well obviously I'd remember … then again, obviously I wouldn't. "W…what happened to me?" I asked.

"You know me better than you think you do," Cranky said. "You've always had a smart mouth, but you've never talked back to me – _ever. _Even after I found you being chased by zombies, you never questioned any of the instructions I gave. When was the last time you let some random Joe order you around like that?"

I shrugged. "I just felt like you knew what you were doing."

"And since when had you trusted someone within the first few seconds of meeting them?" he challenged.

"Well there are a couple of factors. I was being chased by zombies with nothing to defend myself. You had a shotgun."

"And you didn't think I was some nut?" Cranky asked. "Especially after coming up to you and claiming to be your brother? It's not common that a guy with red hair toting a shotgun goes up to a little Chinese kid and goes 'I'm your brother'."

"You think I would've questioned you when you had a gun in your hand?"

"But I didn't expect you to trust me as quickly as you did."

"Look," I said, holding up a hand, "I never actually said I trusted you."

"It was all in your actions," he interrupted. "You were listening to everything I had to say. You never questioned any instructions I gave you – not even with that tub of ice cream you wanted to use against the zombies – and I know you like ice-cream."

"Alright, you win," I said, throwing my hands up. "I don't know why I know you because I haven't seen you in my life before. Now can you please explain this to me?"

"So you're finally willing to listen."

"Yes, now out with it."

Cranky drew a breath and began explaining. "Do you remember when …" then he paused. "No, of course you don't. Well, ever since you were a child, living with your parents in rural Osaka, I've helped to take care of you. Whether it was a few hours of babysitting at the request of your mother, or an outing for the day to give your parents some space, I was there."

"My parents hired you as my babysitter?" I asked.

"Not exactly. Your mother was a kind woman. She was a high school teacher before she moved to Japan. She bonded well with children. Back then, when you were just a baby, I was a ten year old kid who lived on the streets of Osaka. I couldn't speak the language and as a result, combined with the color of my skin, I learned about hate at a young age. Your mother took me under her wing and together, we learned the local language. She helped to feed me, and nursed my injuries when I got into scraps with other kids. If it wasn't for her, I'd be dead. Best of all, she treated me like her own child and showed me the love of a parent. That's something I'd never had before she came along."

"That's why you claim we're brothers," I said, understanding.

"In every way but blood," he added.

"Well what happened to my mother?" I continued asking. "And what happened to me that I don't remember any of this?"

"Six years after she had taken me under her wing, she was killed," he replied, "along with your father. It seemed like a random assassination to me at the time, and I only found out later that the attack had been anything but random. I came to the house just in time to find you, but I was too late to save your parents." As Cranky explained, his gaze dropped to the floor, his tone heavy with guilt and regret. "If I'd only ran a little faster, if I hadn't taken a detour with my buddies …"

"What happened then?" I asked, eager to get him to continue. Part of me didn't want him to dwell on his guilt, while another part of me wanted him to hurry up and get on with the story.

"We spent a couple of weeks together on the street, with nowhere else to go," Cranky explained. "Your home had been burnt to the ground by the assassins, so I decided to take you into my world. It was my only option, otherwise there would have been nobody else to watch out for you."

"When was this?"

"You were six years old." The answer chilled my bones. That's as far back as my memory stretched. Something happened to me then, something that made me forget everything prior to that, and I wanted to know what. Every word he spoke seemed to come out slowly. The pauses he took, when considering how to word his sentences seemed like an eternity.

"So how did I …"

"A strange man came one day," Cranky said, "and took you away. It wasn't a kidnapping. You went with him on your own will. He gave me five thousand yen for you and I never saw you again. At the time, that was a lot of money for me, and he offered to take care of you. So I agreed."

"Who was this man?" I pressed. "Why were you willing to give me up so easily after taking care of me for so long?"

"I don't remember, but his partner in crime called himself Mr. Masters."

I almost fell over. Mr. Masters. He was the same man who'd been mysteriously feeding my bank account with tons of money at monthly intervals. He was guy who never revealed himself to me, nor his motives for funding my life. Mr. Masters was responsible for my financial expenditures, from my coffee and cigarettes to the monthly rent I had to pay the apartment block owner.

"What can you tell me about Mr. Masters?" I asked, grabbing Cranky by his forearms. I would've seized his shoulders but he was too tall.

"Nothing," he replied. "I never saw you again from the day you were taken away. Word on the street was that you'd died, but I wasn't sure. And there was no way for me to find out. I lived that way for nine years, not knowing where you were or even if you were dead or alive. I regretted ever giving you up for a measly five thousand yen."

So this guy spent the last nine years wondering whether I was still alive. And that whole time, I didn't even know he existed. The supposed memory wipe was to blame but he had yet to mention anything about it. So I asked.

"I wasn't there when it happened," he replied. "So I don't know the circumstances, or even what happened exactly. I only know that you lost your memory."

"But then how did you find out I was alive? How did you even know I went through this memory wipe if you didn't know I whether I was dead or alive?"

"My girlfriend did a little research about you behind my back," he said. "It was through her research and her contacts that I found out about you, what happened to you since we got separated, and where to find you."

"You have a girlfriend? After I saw you flirting with that woman sleeping beside you?"

"Shh, don't say anything about that," he said, his face suddenly reddening.

"Alright, but I still don't get how you were able to find me in Raccoon City."

"Illegal immigration isn't that hard to track down," Cranky said.

Holy shit, this guy knew about how I came to America. It didn't surprise me that Julie was capable of finding out about my immigration status, but this guy? Now I was starting to worry he was going to use that information against me like Julie did. "Hey," I retaliated, getting a little defensive. "I pay my taxes, I contribute to society."

"All we had to do was get a record of Mr. Master's expenditures. Now that wasn't hard since he turned out to be my girlfriend's ex."

"Wow … small world. And to think this whole time, I was involved in a web of people and social relationships I didn't even know existed." The realization dawned on me then. All along, there were people who cared about my well being. During those nine years I spent traveling, moving from one place to another, Cranky was worried his head of about me, feeling guilty for whatever situation I was in. Mr. Masters cared enough to fund my life. Suddenly, I felt the loneliness of life slip away only to be replaced by relief, and a sense of belonging. All of those years I spent envious of the other uptown kids with their families, their Christmases, peaceful Sundays at the park, it was all wasted time. I just didn't know where to look out of fear that people would discover that I'd paid my way into the country and I'd be booted.

"There are people who care about you, people who love you, Kenny," Cranky said, as if reading my thoughts. He took me by the shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It's not just me. There are more. You have a whole family waiting for you back home."

"But you said my parents were killed."

"Yeah, but I don't mean your parents. I mean the people who've stood in their place as your guardians. Your friends."

The years of loneliness were shed through the tears that suddenly fell from my eyes. It was so sudden, it shocked me. Cranky wasn't a liar. At least, if he was, I could tell that he was telling me the truth right now. It explained everything. No wonder he was willing to risk his skin to get me out of Raccoon City. No wonder he felt better being at the precinct with me than leaving me to the hoards of zombies. It was because he thought of himself as my brother, and in retrospect, he is. And to think all these years, I'd remained ignorant to the fact that I came from somewhere and that people still gave a shit about my well being, that I had friends who were concerned about me … I let my body act on its own, my brain too overwhelmed with emotion to function properly. I remember burying my face into his shoulder and crying like a girl. Years and years of sadness that I'd repressed exploded at that moment. There were a lot more tears than I thought I had. My brain screamed at me to stop, out of fear of embarrassment, of losing face in front of a room full of people I didn't know, but every time I tried to stop the tears, more came than I could control. Cranky just hugged me tightly, patting me reassuringly on the back with one hand, rubbing the back of my head with the other, saying nothing the whole time.

After what seemed like an eternity, I somehow composed myself and backed off, wiping at my eyes, feeling more than a little embarrassed. "Sorry," I said sheepishly. "I guess that was a little uncalled for …"

"It wasn't," he disagreed. "I can't imagine what kind of hell you've been through, having nobody to back you up. Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah, a bit, actually."

"Good, cause you've gone and soaked my shirt, you little crybaby," he said, smirking at me. I had to laugh at the comment. And yeah, after all the crap that's hit the fan since the decline of Raccoon City, I can safely say that was the most genuine laugh I had in a long time.

Just then, Amber and Officer McGraw showed up, panic set in their faces. "Kenny, is everything alright?" Amber asked. "A concerned citizen came and told us you might need a little calming down. What happened?"

"Oh, um, it wasn't anything big, really," I said, lowering my head in shame. Geez, was I really bawling to the point where other people had forgotten about their own troubles and were more concerned enough about me to go tell the officers. I felt the heat rise to my face. I couldn't even look up.

Cranky clasped a hand on my shoulder and replied to Amber for me. "Kenny's back," he said proudly. But Amber and Officer McGraw only looked at each other in confusion.

"He's back," Cranky repeated, a little more softly and nodded to himself, a genuine smile forming across his face.

**XXXXX**

**September 26th, 1998**

**Evening**

Dinner was a little better than the lunch of pop and potato chips. I'd been eating like this for the last couple of days that I'd die of a heart attack if I didn't get fat first. I dined with Officer McGraw, Amber, Rita, Cranky and Marvin at the base of the stairs in the library that led to the third level. Rita had managed to snag some microwave dinners from Chief Iron's office and heated them up in a microwave in the east office. We picked apart the salty meals and washed it down with some bottled water. Our laughter filled the library, cheering up the other civilians as they started mingling amongst each other. It was their turn to bond, to share in the laughter in the middle of a war zone. It was a well deserved break from the sadness and horror that had become a part of our everyday life.

As we talked and laughed inside the warmth and safety of the police station, the situation outside got worse. Garbage had littered the streets outside. Cars had spun out of control and came to a rest on the sidewalk with nobody to clean them up. Zombies were a regular sighting now as people began describing the sightings to each other. Despite the laughter, there was lingering feeling of dread and foreboding. Nobody knew what to expect next, everyone including the officers equally unsure about what the next day held for them.

"HEEEELLPP!"

The double doors that led into the library from the second storey of the main hall crashed open with a deafening thud, making everyone in the room jump with surprise. IN the doorway stood a young officer, brown hair matted to his head with some kind of dark liquid. His face was smeared with grease, blood, tears and sweat while mud caked his uniform. He held a pistol in one trembling hand, but the weapon was lowered as he hunched over, trying to catch his breath.

Rita and Marvin ran to him. "Jameson, are you alright?" Marvin asked, putting his hand on the officer's shoulder.

"Zombies …" was the reply. "They've penetrated the barricades. They're all over the fucking place! We've got to fight them off!"

My heart leapt into my throat. I glanced at Cranky who returned my panicked expression.

"How many zombies?" I heard Marvin ask.

"More than we can handle," the officer replied with dread in his eyes.

Marvin spun around and waved Rita, Amber, Officer McGraw – who had actually asked me to start calling him David, and Cranky over, leaving me by myself. But I wasn't going to be left by myself. I went along with them to catch up with Marvin. He looked at everyone, nodding at each of their faces. "Everybody have your weapons?"

They all pulled out various firearms from their belts and holsters. Cranky had his shotgun over his shoulder, Amber with a dual set of handguns, Officer McGraw – er, David, brandishing a hunting knife and a baton, Rita cocking a burst-fire handgun. Marvin shot me a disapproving frown when he saw that I was standing with them, displaying my weapon of choice - a thick, heavy library book.

"You turn right around and put that book back right where it belongs," he ordered. "And stay in there."

"But …"

"Listen to the man," Cranky told me.

"Here," Amber said, handing me a green wine bottle half filled with what looked like water. Instead of a cork, the bottle had a piece of fabric stuffed into it, the tail end sticking up through the neck. And there was no mistaking that smell for kerosene. "If zombies come near you, use this," she advised. "I don't have a lighter, though …"

"It's okay, I've got one," I said, patting my pocket. "Every smoker's necessity."

"Good, now take care of yourself," Marvin said, before the group headed off towards the emergency ladder on the second balcony. I remained where I stood, in front of the library's double doors and watched them descend the ladder, the Officers' blue uniform mixing in a sea of others down there in the main hall, where my work station was. Cranky stuck out from the rest of the crowd like a sore thumb with his black T-shirt and red hair.

Officer McGraw pulled a balaclava from somewhere in his Kevlar vest and wrapped it around his head in one expert motion. I'd never seen him dressed like that before and was somewhat impressed with the transformation. Any friendly pretense of his was gone, destroyed by a single piece of fabric wrapped around his face. He looked like an experienced, lethal, battle-hardened S.W.A.T. sharpshooter who would sooner put a bullet in your head than crush a bug.

Police officers were swarming around the main hall, giving the R.P.D. the feel of a bee hive. Police captains were trying to yell above each other, making their words reach their men. But noise was all that resulted. With all the chaos in that hall that evening, there seemed to be one consistent occurrence. Everyone was headed outside into the courtyard. My head snapped in the direction of the window that overlooked the courtyard. I didn't have to go outside to find out what was going on. I could just look through the windows! Unfortunately, they were set into the face of the building, the one side of the structure that the second floor balcony didn't cross. I had to lean over the banister to get a good look at what was going on.

I could see the first flashes of firepower going off, the resulting bangs deafening me even from the outside. I spotted Marvin, Amber and Rita, with their weapons drawn, running through the front doors and outside, into the unknown. Cranky wasn't too far behind, held up by the bodies of other people. But then he held the shotgun horizontal to the ground, pointing the barrel and it was as if by magic, a path cleared for him to head through unobstructed.

"W…what the hell is going on out there?" someone asked from behind me. I turned around to see a man I didn't recognize, probably in his late twenties to early thirties, dressed in a white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a red tie. His brown hair was around chin length, I estimate, only with was tied in a short ponytail.

"It looks like a siege," I said, not entirely wanting to believe what I was saying either. I bit my tongue then, wondering if the man would panic. If he did, and brought the news into the others in the library, the results would be disastrous. We didn't need a riot to start in here.

"I figured as much," the man said, his composure still there, which allowed me to breathe a sigh of relief. But that relief didn't last long as the lights around us suddenly went dead. The world that I had come to know in the last few months, the precinct with its marble walls, polished floors, Romanesque designs just vanished in a flash of darkness. "Holy shit, where'd the lights go!" the man asked, the fear now apparent in his voice.

"Listen, Mister …"

"Bertolucci," he replied with a shaky voice. "I came here looking for a scoop and instead, I find this bullshit!"

"Let's get back to the library," I said, reaching out for the door handles. I found them eventually but it had taken me longer than normal with the lack of lighting.

"Yeah, good call," Mr. Bertolucci said. "We'll round up the survivors, and stop anything from coming into the libraries."

"Um … I don't think anything's getting into the library," I said, swallowing a dry lump in my throat. "Not even us."

"What? You can't open the doors?" Mr. Bertolucci asked, tugging at the handles himself. The doors were sealed shut. They wouldn't even budge. "What the hell is this?" he cried in frustration, kicking the bottom of the right door with his foot.

"It's a security feature," I replied, understanding how the precinct worked. "In the event of a power outage, the doors to the receptionist room downstairs, the east lobby, and the library are electronically locked to prevent rioters from accessing the east and west wings, and the valuable books in the library."

"So you're saying we're trapped out here with the officers and the zombies."

"I've got a Molotov cocktail to protect us," I said, holding up the bottle.

"Just one!" he cried in dismay, while I replied with a shameful nod. "Oh God," Mr. Bertolucci gasped. "We've got to find another place to hide, where the zombies can't get at us, somewhere impenetrable …"

The both of us delved into our imaginations, trying to think of the most creative places to hide, the only weapon to protect us, a Molotov cocktail in my hands. All around us, the bangs of a firefight permeated the air and a few minutes later, a loud crash of breaking wood, collapsing metal and shattering glass, signaling the penetration of more barricades the protected the station from the zombies. The morbid death cries of the first casualties of the night came barely a second later.


	21. Chapter 19: One Last Shot

Guns were going off in every direction. Even from the inside, we could hear the police officer's frantic shots outside, each bang of a different caliber than the last. They must've had an entire arsenal of weapons among the officers out there. And once in awhile, I would hear Cranky's shotgun go off as he contributed to the safety of the precinct. I wanted to be out there so badly with the officers, although it was quite obvious that I was a civilian, despite working in the police station for the last few months. I looked disdainfully at the single Molotov cocktail in my hand, wondering how much damage I could do with it. My first instinct was to light it outside, and throw it into the mobs of the undead, but that meant discarding the only weapon I had to protect myself with. It would be better suited to be thrown at a zombie heading right for me, as I heard some of the barricades smash just moments earlier. It seemed there were enough zombies to destroy the fortifications Cranky and the officers worked so hard to erect for the last few days.

"Where can we go?" Mr. Bertolucci asked, the urgency apparent in his tone.

"The basement," I said suddenly, the idea striking me suddenly like a jolt of electricity. "That's where the jail cells are." I remembered taking Lisa down there the other day to get Jack out of the cell. The zombies would never get in there if a normal person couldn't even get through the bars.

Mr. Bertolucci seemed to be understanding my logic as his eyes widened with hope. "Good plan," he said, giving me a thumbs-up. "But you're gonna have to lead the way."

"We'll need to get down there to the desk in the main hall," I said, pointing one level below us. "We keep a copy of the keys there." I led the way around the second floor banister, and climbed down the emergency ladder. My workstation consisted of a huge work desk which I shared with the secretaries, and its opening was a little farther away than I was willing to walk, given the circumstances. I hopped nimbly over the table and dashed for the drawers, fumbling through a tray full of keys.

"Just grab them all!" Mr. Bertolucci said, red faced from having climbed down the ladder. Even with my smoker's metabolism, I had managed to outrun him while rushing for the keys.

"We're going to have to make a run for the basement," I said, remember the hallway Sherry and I took earlier to get down there. The windows were extremely breakable and if we wanted to get down there undetected, we'd have to make our stay in that hallway as short as possible.

"Why?" Mr. Bertolucci asked. "What's between us and the basement?"

"A weakness in the structure," I replied simply. I led him to the front doors, where I planned to turn left into the east wing, instead of straight through the main entrance. Just as I was climbing the short flight of stairs up the platform, Officer McGraw burst through the main doors. I was taken aback by his ghastly appearance. His S.W.A.T. armor was covered with a layer of fresh blood coating the front. He ripped off his balaclava, revealing his face, covered with sweat and grime. He carried a sniper rifle in his hands – a weapon I didn't even see him carry on his way out. I heard stories about Officer McGraw on the S.W.A.T. team, how he was one of the best sharpshooters along with Amber, Kevin and Chris. I shuddered to think how deadly he could be with a sniper rifle, a weapon designed to deliver death with one fatal bullet.

"Fuck, out of ammo …" he mumbled. He turned to me. "Kenny, go grab me a box of bullets for this baby. It should be stored towards the … what are you doing out of the library?"

"The power went out," I said, hoping that was enough to excuse me from suffering his wrath for disobeying Marvin's orders. "We got locked outside."

"Then why are you down here?"

"The jail cells should be a safe place for us," Mr. Bertolucci interrupted, saving my hide.

"I've got the keys, and I'm taking us there," I continued. "I'll stay out of the way, I swear."

Officer McGraw sighed outwardly in frustration. "That's not the problem," he said. "The problem is if you don't do as you're told, you're putting yourself in danger. And keeping you and the other civilians safe becomes that much harder for all of us."

"Don't worry about it," I snapped, a little more aggressively than I had intended. "The prison cells will do a good enough job." I prepared to storm off towards the east wing, then felt Officer McGraw grab the back collar of my shirt, holding me in place.

"Not without me, you're not," he said. "I've got to get down to the weapons storage locker anyway. We're running low on ammo up here. It'll be on the way."

"Thank you very much, Officer," Mr. Bertolucci said, vigorously shaking Officer McGraw's hand. "We could use the extra cover. And somehow I don't think a Molotov cocktail will be enough to do the job, especially with all the chaos surrounding this place."

"Come on, then!" I cried, waving them to follow me. We couldn't afford to waste anymore time standing there and talking.

**XXXXX**

We made a mad dash into the forbidden hallway with me leading the way, Mr. Bertolucci, who'd introduced himself now as Ben, and Officer McGraw trailing behind us. His sniper rifle was now strapped to his back and he held a handgun in each hand, his expert eyes scanning the surroundings for any threats. There was none – at least none that I could see. I rounded a corner and felt something warm, hard, and wet wrap around my neck like a snake. I let out a pathetic yelp and felt my body lift into the air by my neck, my windpipe instantly crushed by my weight pulling down on it.

I kicked my legs helplessly under me, but that made my vision fade even more as I attempted, to no avail, to gasp for air. My whole body was paralyzed with shock and fear, not to mention the lack of air. Those few seconds were among the longest in my life. I tried desperately to cry out for help, but no sound would escape from my obstructed throat.

Suddenly, as if by some miracle, I was dropped .I caught sight of something large and pink falling along with me, but I was more preoccupied with the rush of air that flowed sweetly into my lungs. I coughed and gagged for a little bit, trying to understand what had just happened to me when I heard Ben cry out.

"What the hell is that _thing_?" I turned to face him and saw him pointing at the strangest creature I had ever seen. It looked like a man – a man that had been skinned alive, that is. It's proportions were similar to that of a human, except that instead of hands and feet, the thing had these gigantic porcelain white claws, three of them tipping each limb, that tapped on the tile flooring while the creature died. It was dying …?

A fresh bullet hole was smoking from its head – FUCKING GROSS! Its head … I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Instead of a pair of eyes or a nose, the thing had an exposed brain that covered most of its cranium, with the exception of a fanged mouth from which an immensely long tongue hung out, slimy saliva hanging off it in strings.

"Come on," Officer McGraw said, pulling me and Ben along with him, trying to act calm and in control in front of two civilians although I could tell the sight of the creature had also brought out some kind of feral fear in him that he now struggled to suppress. He was in such a rush, I didn't even get the opportunity to thank him for saving my life. "Let's get you guys down to the jail cells."

We descended the stairs to the basement, passing the weapons storage room on the way to the cells. I stole a glance at the doors, and saw a red light flashing on the panel just beside the door.

"Umm, Officer McGraw?" I called out, noticing something was wrong. "Did you say you were hoping to gain access to this room?" I knocked lightly on the door.

He turned around to face me, confusion settled in his expression and asked, "Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, I hope you have the cardkey, cause this thing is locked."

"What!" He marched over and tugged at the door. It didn't budge of his first try and he gave it a stronger pull the second time round, grunting with effort. After a few seconds, he gave up and leaned over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. "It's no use," he said. "This thing's not giving!"

"It's a weapon storage room," I reminded him. "They made this place nigh impenetrable for a reason."

"Well how the hell are we going to restock on ammunition now?" he asked. Officer McGraw was starting to lose his composure, but made a visible effort to keep his behavior in check. He sucked in a breath and continued, speaking more calmly this time. "Officer Johnston has the card key."

"Is there only one card key?" I asked.

He nodded grimly. "I think so. We've got to track Johnson down. Our survival might depend on it."

"I'll search the …"

"You'll go nowhere except the jail cells," he reminded me. "I never thought I'd be saying that, Kenny." He put his hand on my shoulder. "But I think this time, it's for your own safety."

**XXXXX**

Ben and I had found some helpful items on our way to the jail cells. He stuffed a handgun magazine into his pocket after finding it just lying on the floor. There were also some blue capped pills we saw scattered here and there, probably having fallen out of a first aid case or something. We found some Umbrella First Aid Sprays, and various items we thought we might be able to use. There wasn't a gun between us, but in the situation the station was in right now, it was only a matter of time before we ran into one.

I unlocked the door and Ben didn't even wait for me to get in first. He jumped right in front of me and ran to the back of the cell, planting himself in one of the fold-down beds on the side wall. Ben motioned for me to follow suit as I closed the door behind us, twirling the keys around a finger after I was done. We were safe. But somehow, I wasn't feeling right about just sitting here, waiting for the firefight to be over. Zombies were crawling all over the streets just one storey above our heads. There was no way we were going to kill them all, if they were in fact ex-citizens of Raccoon City. If everyone in the city turned into a zombie … I pictured how crowded the halls of RCSS were during lunchtime, and multiplied that by ten, which likely fell short of the potential zombies we could be facing off against. There was definitely not enough ammunition for the guns to take them all out. If we didn't find a way to escape this place, we were going to die here, I was sure of it.

Officer McGraw had since left us to continue his fight against the zombies; either that or search for Officer Johnston who held the keycard. But I was beginning to question the use of even that. Wouldn't it be far better to try and secure an escape route for the civilians? That way, whatever ammunition we were wasting on the zombies right now, trying to keep them from coming in, could be used to protect us on our way out. Had the officers even thought about finding a way out of this place yet?

I headed for the doors of the cell and stuck in the key, turning the lock.

"Where are you going?" Ben asked.

"I'm going to try and find a way out of this place," I replied. "I've seen a manhole in the kennel. We might be able to leave the precinct from there. I'm going to gather as many civilians as I can find and together, we'll break open the manhole and get the hell out of here."

"We're going to need the officers to help protect us," Ben suggested. "You plan on letting them in on this too, right?"

"Of course," I said, "but it'll be good if you could help me out with that."

"I'm staying right here," Ben said, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm not going out there with all those creatures. But if you can get that manhole open …"

I couldn't believe this journalist, this professional, was willing to let me risk my neck without anyone to watch my back while I ran rampant through a police station infested with zombies. And he was willing to go along with my plan anyway! I was a little put off by his suggestion, but decided there was no time to waste arguing with him, so I let him have his way.

"I'll come get you," I said, not even sure if I wanted to keep that promise.

"Whoa, hold on," he said, "before you go, let me have the keys."

"What for?" I asked, bewildered.

"So I can get myself out of here if I need to," he replied. "Now hand them over." I sighed and tossed them into his open palm that he stuck out from between the bars and walked away without even saying goodbye. I prayed that I was going to run into Officer Johnston or some more civilians, anything that would help me contribute to our success in escaping the station.

First things first. If we wanted to get out of the station alive, the very first obstacles in our path would be any zombies that have broken into the precinct. And to protect ourselves against them, we were going to need weapons. Ammunition was available in limited amounts and could not be used unless absolutely necessary. Melee weapons had to do the trick. I remembered the bags of weapons Cranky and I had gathered, after raiding my apartment and the neighbor's. The duffel bags were in the library – shit. I had no access to them.

The only other choice left was to find my way back upstairs to the main hall, where there was sure to be a plethora of items I could use as weapons. I didn't want to take any of the ammunition for the sake of the officers fighting the undead outside. Heading back to the main hall meant navigating through the parking garage, the basement, and that hallway Amber hated so much, the same hallway where that skinless creature almost killed me just a few minutes earlier, had it not been for Officer McGraw. I didn't want to have to go back through there, and Officer McGraw would've certainly been pissed at me if he found out that I braved the halls of the precinct without a weapon.

Well just sitting around twiddling my thumbs wouldn't have helped anymore either, so I decided to just go for it. I could run by any creatures that threatened me. Zombies were slow, and could be easily dodged. I was small and quick, so I decided to take my chances. I wasn't going to surrender to waiting in a jail cell until help came. For all I knew, help probably wasn't even going to come.

I was making my way cautiously across the parking garage, moving quickly, my eyes scanning the surrounding parked police cruisers for any sign of aggressive life, when I bumped into Chief Irons. His rotund form scared the shit out of me, as I yelped and leapt at least a foot into the air. He stood there nonchalantly with his fat arms folded across his fat belly, the hairs that made up his mustache rippling under the breath from his nostrils.

"Why aren't you with the other civilians?" he asked. There was a tone of anger in his voice, of disappointment, but for some reason, I didn't feel like he was concerned about my safety. It was as if the fact that I wasn't housed with the other civilians somehow posed as an impairment to whatever schemes he'd planned.

"I … I got locked out of the library sir," I replied nervously, "when the power went out."

"It's a lot safer in the library than it is out here," he said, looking off into the distance. "Those creatures are everywhere."

Yeah, and they wouldn't be an issue if he had taken care of them during the initial attacks. But I kept the blame to myself. Partially because this guy freaked me out, and secondly because we had more productive things to do right now than point fingers at each other.

"I'm doing my best to gather weapons so we won't have to waste too many bullets," I explained.

"That's good," the chief said, patting me on the shoulder. "But I want you to hold off on that for awhile. "Instead …" he opened up a fat fist. Within his hand sat five crescent shaped plates that looked like they were made of gold. Within the centre of each plate was a gemstone, each a different color than its brothers. They sparkled in five colors of the rainbow; red, green, purple, midnight blue, and sky blue.

"Wow, how much are these worth?" I asked.

"It's not how much they're worth," the chief replied, "but what they can do for us. These five plates, when combined and placed into the hole in the fountain, exposes a tunnel from which we can escape. The only problem is, its another opening that those monsters can use to enter our stronghold."

"Sir, we have to try," I said.

"It's not work risking letting this place get overrun by zombies," he said, shaking his head. "A few of the officers know of this secret and might try it, but there are too many lives at stake here to take such a risk. Can you imagine our exhausted officers fighting the undead from the outside _and_ from within? They'll be tired, exhausted, low on ammunition and eventually be overrun. I don't want my fine officers to die like this. I've lost enough to those creatures."

"What do you want me to do with these?" I asked, holding out my hand while he dropped all five plates into it.

"Hold onto them," the chief instructed. "And don't let anyone know you have them."

"Okay, sir," I promised, "I won't tell anyone." Fact of the matter was, I wasn't going to tell anyone unless it looked like there was no other way out. I didn't want to keep us in the precinct any longer than we had to. Maybe I'd wait until the chief got killed by the zombies, or maybe I'd tell Officer McGraw or Amber to order me to give them the plates, that way the blame would be out of my hands.

Bidding the chief goodbye, I headed out of the parking garage. Lord knew where he was going. In the basement, there were two rooms for me to go into to search for weapons. I tried the boiler room, where a few potted herbs sat on the floor. How those things found enough sunlight in here to thrive, I had no idea. The room was completely empty save for a few shelves and large, noisy, mechanical contraptions that produced vibrations which hurt my ears. I left the room, with a box of shotgun shells I found tucked into a far corner of one of the shelves. This one was going upstairs, and I'm sure Cranky would've found some use for them.

The autopsy room was next. There were some metal rods in there from broken stretchers that the janitors had been too lazy to clean out; or too scared, anyway. I didn't blame them. I used to hear stories about the ghosts of the dead people screaming for revenge, and the scream would be coming from that very room. The place gave me the creeps but I decided to just go in, grab whatever I could and run out.

Upon walking into the room, the stench of death clogged my nostrils, forcing me to gag. The bodies were strewn all over the floor, like some chaotic battle had gone in here. I found on metal pipe resting against the wall, bent over an encased corpse to reach it, and booked it out of there like a bat out of hell. I heard a metallic clang but ignored it in my rush to leave the autopsy room. It was creepy enough in there with the dead bodies stored in their little refrigerated compartments. But with them lying all over the floor the way they were, perfuming the air with the rancid stench … barf.

On my way up from the basement, I looked at the collection of weapons I had in my hands; a box of shotgun rounds and a metal pipe. Excellent, I found two items. But how far was that going to get me? Well, at least I had the plates in my pockets to get us out whenever I needed them.

The dead body of the skinless creature lay there in the forbidden hallway. I could see the bullet holes gaping from its sides and the center of its head, but I had this strange, sinking feeling it would get up and attack me again. The windows were still intact in this area of the station, so how did the creature get in? As I walked by its fallen form, I took a look at its tremendously long claws, sharp as kitchen lives and three times as large. I shuddered, walking right by, realizing that I could've been a victim of those things if it wasn't for Officer McGraw.

The east office was the next stop on the itinerary. There were some useful bullets on the shelf by the captain's office, and there was probably some precious material in the safe. I headed for the safe first, punching in the code, 2366, that wasn't supposed to know, but hell, everyone knew it. I scooped the plates out of my pocket to make room for any useful materials but was sadly disappointed when I saw that all it contained was a map of the station. Sighing, I put them back into my pockets, which were now sagging from the weight of all that metal. I hadn't known it back then, but I'd accidentally left one plate on the shelf, which came back to bite me in the ass later …

**XXXXX**

**September 26th, 1998**

**Nightfall**

"…people!" I heard Rita cry as she entered the main hall. Marvin was beside her, holding her upright. Rita looked like a mess, her face red and crying, her hair a mess on her head. "There were people out there! And we just stood and watched … watched them …"

"There was nothing we could have done," Marvin said, trying to console her. "They were soldiers, well trained and heavily armed. They were probably more experienced in battle than we were. If they couldn't handle the zombies, do you think we would've faired much better if we jumped in with them?"

"More fighters?" I asked, heading up to the duo.

"It's nothing," Marvin said, dismissing my query.

"There were soldiers out there," Rita said, struggling to control herself. There was a whole group of them, shooting at the zombies. The gates were barricaded shut. There was nothing we could do to help them get inside. They were eaten …"

"Right in front of our eyes," Marvin continued. "It left us all pretty shaken up."

"I thought the U.S. army quarantined the city," I said, scratching my head in confusion. "Why would they be sending their men in when they declared that the city was a dangerous place to be in?"

"They weren't American military soldiers," Marvin said, shaking his head.

"Then what where they? Canadian? Mexican? German? Japanese?"

"They were Umbrella mercenaries," he replied, unable to comprehend the words that were coming from his own mouth.

"They had the Umbrella logo embroidered on the back of their combat vests. These guys had weapons that made us look like a bunch of stick waving cavemen."

"And even still, they were slaughtered by the zombies?"

"Probably because there were too few of them. Perhaps if they were behind the security of our barricades, things would've turned out differently. But we had no time to get them in. We've fortified the gates a little too well."

"Kenny," Rita said, changing the subject, "it's probably going to get more dangerous in here as well. I see you've gotten some ammunition from the rest of the building, and we appreciate your initiative. But I think you should get back to the safety in the library."

"I can't," I explained, "the library doors are locked."

"Stupid safety mechanism," Marvin cursed under his breath. His eyes darted around the main hall, looking for another means of refuge for me. Then they widened, remembering something. "There's a barricade erected in the second floor waiting room. Go hide up there while we take care of the zombies down here. I don't want you putting yourself in anymore danger."

Just then, Amber darted inside, releasing the empty shells from her gun. Her presence caught the attention of Rita and Marvin. "Cranky and McGraw are still outside holding off the hordes," she explained. "We could use that box of shotgun shells." She extended a hand, into which I placed the shells. "Thanks kiddo, I really appreciate this. Where's Sherry?"

"I don't know," I admitted, shrugging my shoulders. "Don't tell me she's been lost amidst all this chaos."

"Oh no," Amber said, slapping a hand to her forehead. "I hope she's safe with the other survivors."

"Apparently the doors to the east and west wings, and the library are all locked," Rita told her. "Kenny's going to head up to the second floor waiting room. Hopefully he'll run into Sherry."

"Hopefully not," Amber countered. "She better be with the other survivors."

"Come on, Kenny," Marvin said, ushering me along towards the emergency ladder that led up to the balcony, "up you go."

"Alright, I'm on my way," I replied, walking away from the group. "You guys take care out there, okay? If you need my help …"

"We'll be fine," Marvin said, cutting me off. "Now let's get a move on."

"Yes, sir."

**XXXXX**

So Umbrella sent some kind of military force into the city. I wondered what their motivations could be, to risk the lives of so many of their well trained men. I wondered where Sherry could've been, or how I could get to the other survivors to lead them to safety via the manhole Ben Bertolucci was telling me about. I wondered how I could get enough weapons to supply everyone with while we made our trek out of here. Were people even willing to listen to me, a high school work experience kid with the police department? There were too many things to consider, and that was assuming people were willing to cooperate with me and not the police. Hell, the police didn't even want me meddling in their plans to keep the precinct safe. I know Amber and Rita would probably listen to me, but Marvin, Officer McGraw and Cranky thought I was too incapable in a situation like this and would most likely dismiss my suggestions. And they were the ones with the guns. I supposed the best I could do was carry along with whatever they had planned and try to slip in a suggestion here and there. Or maybe they would listen to me once they found out I had the plates …

The waiting room was where citizens who wanted to file a report directly to the chief sat while waiting for him. There was a secretary's desk in the far right corner. In between the entrance and the desk was the large barricade Marvin had told me about. It looked as if it had been assembled with haste, nothing but random shelves, boxes and chairs piled up in a line down the middle of the room. There was a gap which I could fit through easily. The only problem was the large trunk in the way, but it proved to quite easy to move with a little effort.

I made it safely to the other side, spotting a safe on top of a tall shelf. Perhaps I could keep the plates in there until we absolutely needed them. I climbed on top of the aforementioned trunk, allowing myself to reach that impossibly small safe on the impossibly tall shelving unit. The door was unhinged and I noticed a key sitting on the same shelf, but on the opposite end of the barricade. Well, at least if I needed to get the plates out, the key would be right there. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the first plate I grasped, which turned out to be the ruby one. I had only managed to get that one into the safe when I heard the safety of a gun go off.

I turned around to the right, into the secondary doorway beside the secretary's desk to see a beautiful woman in a red cocktail dress pointing a gun at me. I instantly shot up my hands into the air.

"Oh," she said, sounding slightly disappointed, "you're human."

"Because zombies can climb boxes and reach tall safes," I shot back.

"What are you doing?" the woman demanded of me. She narrowed her eyes as she spoke, almond shaped, dark brown eyes. She had short black hair parted neatly down the side and a cool, calm demeanor about her, one that felt out of place in the chaos surrounding the precinct.

"I'm keeping some valuables we might be able to use against the zombies," I fibbed. It wasn't exactly a lie. The plates could be used to lead us away from the zombies, but just one look at her, and I wasn't sure if I wanted her to escape the zombies. There was something about this woman that I didn't like.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Kenneth Feng," I replied. "I'm work experience volunteer from the local high school. And who are you?"

"Ada Wong," she answered, "just another nameless face to you, probably, caught up in this mess."

"Can you point the gun away?"

"Sure," she said, as if meaning to keep the barrel pointed at me this whole time. "Why aren't you with the other civilians?"

"I got separated from them," I said, tired of explaining the locking door scenario again. "And you?"

"Same deal here," the mysterious Chinese woman replied.

"Hey, what do you say we go around and try to find some weapons?" I suggested in my never ending quest to be useful.

"I don't have time to play," she said, walking away.

"Hey, I'm not joking here!" I cried, but she had disappeared through a door in the hallway beyond by the time I managed to finish sputtering out those words. I groaned in frustration. Was I the only one in this entire building who believed in my own plan, here?

**XXXXX**

Rita, Marvin, Cranky, and Officer McGraw had told me to stay put with the other civilians but there was no way I was going back in there to join them, even if I wanted to, due to the locked doors. So while I was trapped out here, I thought I'd make myself useful by gathering more ammunition and whatnot. And so far, my plan was coming along quite nicely.

To say that Raccoon City was in decline was an understatement. We were a sinking boat in a shark infested ocean, and kept far away from the dock without any hope of rescue. I had witnessed the streets, in a matter of days, go from populated, to abandoned, to destroyed as the days wore on. The once spotless pavement was now cracked. Hunks of twisted metal that had once been vehicles sat on the sides of the roads, ablaze. Dried blood stained the roads and the sides of buildings, the people that left them mysteriously missing …

But it wasn't too hard to explain. They had simply become the undead. One by one, Raccoon's innocent citizens were turning into zombies. The people were slowly getting outnumbered, and had reached such a desperate situation that one more zombie made it that much harder to quell the infestation, that much ammo required to fully cleanse the city. And there was not enough ammunition – that I knew for sure. It took a good five to ten shots to bring one of those creatures down, maybe one or two if you a good marksman like Amber. But we weren't that good and most people fired away crazily at the creatures, even the trained cops.

The creatures were immune to pain, it seemed. Shooting them in the shoulder, the knee or the thigh didn't matter. Even if a leg was blown off, they still had arms to pull themselves closer to your feet to get a juicy bite of your calves and turn you into one of them. Any one of us, sitting like a buffet for those creatures, could be the next person to turn into one of them.

The coast was clear in the interrogation room. The metal door opened up to a cramped room with a shelf against the wall to my right, and another one on the diagonally opposite end of the room where the door was. It was very dim in this room, probably from the power outage. The faint glow came from the lights being powered by the emergency power generator. And it was from that barely sufficient lighting that something shiny caught my eye – a box of handgun bullets! I reached into my pocket and pulled out a jewel plate to make room for the heavy box of bullets. Grabbing the box with my other hand, I set the jeweled plate down on the shelf and stuffed it into my pocket. I was about to put the plate back when I heard a hiss, and the steady sound of dripping water.

I looked up to the ceiling – nothing there. I looked all over the dark room, and under the table set against the two-way mirror where the interrogation in the next room could be viewed from. Nothing there either.

And then I saw it – another one of those skinless, pink muscled monsters with exposed brains and grossly elongated tongues that looked like some kind of mutated human gone wrong. It was the same creature that caught me by the neck with its tongue a few hours prior. I've experienced their wrath and if it wasn't for Officer McGraw, I'd be dead by now. And this time, there was nobody with a gun to help me out.

The creature was pressed against the two way mirror that separated the room. My first instinct was to panic, fearful that the thing would spot me and come crashing through the glass after me. Then I realized that from where it was situated on the other side of the wall where the glass served as a mirror, it would only be seeing a mirror image of the room it was in. But somehow that didn't seem to quell the feral fear rising in me. My instincts told me to run, though my brain told me it was okay. But I ran anyway. It made me feel better at least. As predicted, the creature didn't even bother pursuing me, despite my rapid footsteps on the tiled floor.

I realized that I'd left the plate on the shelf, not bothering to pocket them after snagging the handgun bullets, but at least I knew where it was. Under most circumstances, the fact that I didn't have all the key plates on me would have bothered me to no end. But with a deadly creature in the adjacent room, I'm sure you can understand why I was willing to leave it there.

**XXXXX**

The first place I ran to after leaving the east wing was the main hall. The other exit to the wing led outside, to the emergency staircase, and there was no way I was heading there, even though the stairs were fenced off from the streets. Besides, I had to tell the officers about the creature in that room. They probably already knew, but it wasn't just zombies making their way into the precinct. And judging by the creatures' killing abilities and how many rounds it took to take them down, I wasn't certain if we'd have enough ammunition to take them all on, let alone the zombies masses.

I spotted Cranky sitting at my work station, the large oak desk just behind the statue of a woman bearing a water jug. His back was turned to me, a heavy blanket draped over his shoulders. I ran up to him, excited to see another human face.

"Hey, Cranky!" I called out, running towards him. "I've got some news for you and the others. There are monsters inside the building. I think we better take care of them first before we even think about engaging the zombies …"

The man turned around, the blanket falling from his shoulders. He was dressed in a cop uniform, instead of the black T-shirt my adoptive brother was wearing. But going by the size and build, I could have sworn this guy was Cranky. Only maybe this cop was a little leaner.

"You're not Cranky," I said, as I got a better look at his face.

"No, I'm tired," he replied. "But that'll be me if all this craziness keeps up."

"No, I didn't mean …" I shook my head, but he wasn't going to understand.

"What was that you were saying about monsters in the station?" he looked at me with worried eyes, slightly hunched shoulders. He wasn't as powerful looking as his co-workers. This guy looked like how I felt on my first day volunteering. His movements were jittery, unsure, unstable, like he was afraid of doing something wrong …

"Eric Rawlings?" I asked, cocking my head slightly.

"Yeah," he breathed, "you're the kid that gave us a tour of this place, right?"

"That's right. Welcome to the force. Must be a great first day of work for you."

"I can understand why you guys needed more officers now," he joked lightly. "But I'm thinking you should've hired a hell of a lot more than just the four of us." His mood then changed to something a little more serious. He looked at me, the fear still in his eyes. "We're aware of the monsters in the building," he said. "They're slowly making their way in. From where, I can't explain. It seems they managed to enter while we were busy engaging the zombies."

"How are they handling it out there?" I asked, pointing to the main doors. Then I realized I could no longer hear any gunfire coming from outside.

"We managed to fight off the wave," he replied. "But I don't think we've seen the last of them. We only managed to down about fifty or sixty of them. Considering the population in the thousands, I'm betting there'll be a hell of a lot more where they came from."

"So where are the officers now?"

"They're having a meeting in the conference room," he explained. "It was Marvin's idea. They're planning a siege on the zombies. Fight fire with fire. We're going to make sure we wipe out enough of them to keep us surviving at least a day or two longer."

I paused, absorbing the reality of his words. Up to this point, I'd never really considered the fact that I'd die, despite almost being killed on numerous occasions. I thought of the events as just being a lucky streak, and after it was all over, I'd never have to face such danger again. But I suppose that was my mind's way of keeping everything together. Because when I considered what Officer Rawlings had told me, I began to see Raccoon's situation in a bigger picture.

Zombies were no longer an irregular occurrence. Back in the day, and I'm talking like a few weeks ago here, seeing a strange, smelly bum was something we were able to write off. But now, these bums who have since been confirmed to be zombies for a lack of a better term, were vicious and killing people. It wasn't just the sightings that would occur everyday. It was the attacks, the mob eating, the _infestation._

In a matter of a few weeks, Raccoon City had declined from a quiet, mountain community, to a town where strange attacks by both humans and animals were a regular occurrence, to a quarantined town, and finally to a desperate day by day survival war zone with the undead. People were dying everyday. And the possibility that anyone in the precinct could die at the drop of a hat from a zombie siege, a skinless creature, or even an armed cop who'd lost his nerve in all this madness. In our hopeless situation, that possibility wasn't a far cry from reality.

Our conversation was interrupted by the banging of the door that led to the west wing. Apparently, they had managed to disable the security feature. Knowing that access to the library had been restored let me breathe a sigh of relief.

"What conclusion have you reached, Sarge?" Officer Rawlings asked as Marvin, Amber, Rita, Officer McGraw and Cranky walked out through the doors, followed by a trail of armed officers.

"The siege is going to take place on Main Street," Marvin said. "Gear up, Rawlings. I know you're a rookie, but with this mission we're going to need everyone we can get."

"Awesome, so we're going to take the fight to them?" I asked enthusiastically.

"We will," Marvin replied, "not you. No civilians are to be involved. Hopefully, we'll stumble on a few while we're out there but given the situation on the streets, it'd be too much to hope for that."

"Well how come Cranky gets to go with you?" I pointed at him.

"He's staying here with you," Marvin said. Then he turned to face the other officers. "We're heading down to the garage. Squad A, you guys take the cruisers and form a barricade with them. Squad B has the transport trucks and I want them to be overflowing with ammo. Give Squad A exactly one minute to pull in and set up their barricade before you get the transport trucks moved in, just as we went over.

"Remember to aim for the _head. _The more headshots we can get, we save ten times more in bullets. Most importantly, don't panic! Panic leads to loss of control, and we can't afford to lose it in the middle of this battle. The lives of your team mates rest in your hands, men!"

It was like watching an army captain prepare his platoon for the battle of their lives.

"We'll show these undead fuckers that they're no match for the living."

The men and women whom Marvin addressed were quivering with anticipation of their deaths. Not one of their faces looked placid and that, in turn, affected me. Cranky walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Let's go men. Give 'em all we've got."

The officers stamped a foot on the ground as a collective, like well trained soldiers, producing a loud thump that echoed off the stone walls of the main hall.

"Give 'em all we got!" the group declared proudly in unison. "Sir, yes, sir!"

Whoops and cheers followed, not those that implied a victory celebration, but those that got the blood running, the adrenaline rushing, and the anger riling. But beneath the bravado of bravery, the initial sense of fear and anticipation never left the atmosphere of the grand hall that night.

"R …" _Stomp! Stomp!_

Cranky, standing behind me, placed each hand on my shoulders and pulled me protectively close.

"P …" _Stomp! Stomp!_

I closed my eyes, letting mysterious tears roll out from the corners of my eyes. I knew not for who or what exactly I cried for. Maybe it was for these officers gladly throwing their lives away to earn us just a few more days, maybe even hours of survival. Maybe it was because I shared in their emotions, in the understanding that sooner or later, I too would be engaging in a battle for my life against the zombies and monsters of Raccoon City. Maybe it was for those individual faces, every last one with a life story to tell, longer than my own fifteen year tale.

"D!"

Or maybe it was the fact that all our stories, no matter how long, complicated or detailed, shared the same ending.


	22. Chapter 20: The Red Dragon

**Author's Note: **_Jake (Smith) Cavanaugh is property of E-Z B. Jake made his Resident Evil debut in E-Z B's story Darkness Arises. Jake is characterized so well in that story, that I felt I had to at least include him in this story with a few guest appearances. Thanks for letting me use him, Bryan. _

**XXXXX**

**September 27th, 1998**

**Afternoon**

Two major battles had occurred between last night and this afternoon, one taking place on the precinct grounds, which succeeded somewhat in keeping us civilians safe. Nevertheless, the zombies had still made their way inside the building via the west wing and the entire wing had been sealed off. Nobody was to go in and the officers did what they could to keep it sealed. The even greater battle took place last night on Main Street, where officers and S.W.A.T. members formed a makeshift barricade for a final showdown with the undead. That battle ended in multiple deaths. News managed to reach the survivors just over an hour ago.

The last thirty six hours, for me, were spent pacing back and forth in the main hall, Cranky sitting at the secretary's desk checking and rechecking his shotgun. There was nothing we could've done about the situation on Main Street. We had no idea as to the outcome of the battle. Officer Bernstein, who I've lately come to know as Amber on a first name basis, remained behind with us to keep the civilians safe. It was a last minute decision Marvin made, who had decided not to take all the officers with him for the civilians needed some protection. Amber seemed to be the only one he could afford to have remain behind. Cranky and I could always help her out when needed, though I'm sure Marvin didn't see it that way. But Amber was well aware of my capabilities, and I could tell she put full trust in me, a trust that I didn't want to betray.

But those hours were mostly uneventful, spent between shooting any stray zombies and comforting civilians. And then, about forty-eight minutes ago, Officer McGraw and Marvin returned with the few surviving officers of the battle. Three quarters of the force they had left with did not walk back in through those teal doors that led into the main hall. Amber had broken down into a sobbing wreck. Most of her colleagues were gone. Communications were cut. Among the missing were Jill Valentine, the last S.T.A.R.S. member to resign and Amber's best friend since junior high, and Officer Kevin Ryman, who was last seen alive by me, on the evening of the twenty-second, when he invited me out to J's Bar just before the outbreak occurred just as I was trying to leave town. Working in the precinct alongside Amber, I had my own grief to deal with, in no shape to be any form of comfort to her.

Marvin was scrambling around without any sleep, desperate to find a way out of the building and out of the city. It was clear we couldn't afford to hole ourselves up here for much longer. Eventually, we would run out of ammunition, and the zombies would make their way in while the civilians cried and wondered about their fate, while Amber and I mourned about the fates of our friends and colleagues.

A strange man arrived that day, unlike any man I've seen before. When I first laid eyes on him, the first impression he gave me was that he was stuck somewhere between the world of the living and the undead. He was tall – extremely tall, standing somewhere over six feet. He probably had a few inches on even Cranky. He had dark, sunken eyes, prominent brows. I could tell his dark hair was once gelled up but had since fallen on his head in a mat crusted with sweat, soot, and blood. Whether or not it was his, I couldn't tell.

There was a black trench coat, which I assumed to belong to him, thrown over his shoulder as Officer McGraw led him into the building. The guy wore a black T-shirt which, in addition to covering his body, seemed to emphasize his intimidating musculature. My eyes were drawn to the red dragon emblazoned onto the T-shirt at the center of the man's massive chest. It was an interesting design, kind of an art-nouveau inspired pattern; simple, but combined with the negative space of the fabric, formed the figure of a dragon in a hybrid of medieval and oriental styles.

Dark shaded clothing (hell, it was all back with the exception of the dragon on his shirt and flecks of silver and red sneakers), sharply contrasted his pale skin, giving him a vampire-like aura. Even the biker gloves were black. It didn't surprise me that he managed to survive the streets. With a getup like that, he would've been able to hide in the shadows from the zombies, if they indeed relied on sight like normal humans. And any of the undead that had come his way, I'd expected that he'd just smash his fists into their rotting faces. And … was that … was that a 16th century Japanese samurai sword I saw strapped to his back!

In rotation with Amber, it was now my turn to take care of Sherry. The girl had managed to escape from the library though one of the many shafts of the labyrinth-like ventilation system. I'd spent the last few hours with her and we had much fun, raiding the vending machines and picking up little bits of ammunition we could along the way. I also managed to grab an emergency blanket and a map of the station from the S.T.A.R.S. office since there was nobody left to occupy the space. Given the recent events, the ex-S.T.A.R.S. had other things occupying their minds than cleaning out their belongings. Sherry and I now stood on the station's helipad on the roof; the same spot where this whole nightmare began three months ago, looking out onto the haunted streets.

"I want more chips," she said grumpily.

"Not my fault you chose C2," I said, taking a puff of my smoke. "I told you salt and vinegar was gross."

"Well they made it look really good on the bag," she protested.

"But they can't show you how it tastes. I told you not to get it, but oh no, you couldn't listen to me. You had to try it out for yourself. So there you go. Salt and vinegar it is for you."

"You want some?" she asked offering the bag to me. I knew these tricks. Justin, Phil and I still played them on each other. Whenever someone had something they didn't want anymore, just offer somebody else the foul concoction and run away screaming "you touched it last!"

"No thanks," I said, waving the offer off. "I'm not very hungry." Upon turning back to blow my smoke out into the air, I felt something collide against my back and crumpled against it. I spun around to face Sherry, enraged, but managed to see her scrambling back inside.

"Touched it last!" she laughed and ran into the building.

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that!" I yelled after her.

We ran screaming and laughing back into the precinct like little children, the deaths, zombies and monsters, all forgotten for those brief moments. We ran down the old, wooden hall of the second level in the east wing, outside through to doors of the emergency staircase, and leapt down them two at a time.

Then we bumped into Marvin and Amber, who where just making their way upstairs for some random errand. They looked equally surprised to see us. I knew one of them would be mad. It was dangerous around here and they were about to yell at us for treating this place like a playground.

"Don't come outside again," Marvin said sternly. I was expecting more, but that seemed to be about it.

"Kenny, I need to borrow you for a bit," Amber said, moving me away from Sherry. "There are a lot of guns that need to be reloaded, but Marvin and I have no time to do deal with it."

"I think there might be an old map of this place, back in the day when the building was still an art museum," Marvin explained. "There might be some tunnels that have since been sealed up, tunnels that we can use to get the hell out of here."

"We're going to look for them right now," Amber explained. "So if you could take care of the guns for me, that would be great, Kenny."

"What about me?" Sherry asked.

"I want you to wait for Kenny in the East Lobby," Amber said. "There's a few vending machines there you can use to feed yourself. He's going to be dealing with some dangerous materials and he knows how. But I don't think a sweet little girl like you should be around those things."

Sherry's eyes went wide in awe. "Wow! That sounds exciting! Are you sure I can't go with him, Amber?"

"I might shoot you," I said to Sherry, an evil smirk crossing my lips. Amber glared at me with disapproval at my attempt at a joke.

"Yes, I'm sure, honey," Amber said, stroking Sherry's hair. "Promise you'll wait for Kenny by the vending machines?"

"Can I have something from them?" Sherry asked.

"She used her last dollar on salt and vinegar chips," I reported.

"Ew," Amber cringed with disgust. She reached into her pocket and pulled out some change and put them in Sherry's palm. "Buy something good with this." She ruffled Sherry's hair and continued up the stairs with Marvin while I continued inside with Sherry.

"I want you to wait for me in Lt. Monroe's office until I'm done," I told her as we entered the building. "The vending machines in the east lobby are too wide and open. You'll be safer in the office."

**XXXXX**

I sat in the main lobby with the worst task of all – reloading weapons. That alone didn't make it the worst. It was the fact that I wasn't going to be the one unleashing lead against the undead forces. Talk about a major let down. All this hard work for nothing.

After the first few magazines, I found the most efficient way of loading the bullets. My hands seem to have found a familiar motion after multiple tries. But as the minutes ticked by and my hands were beginning to burn with the repetitive motions, I grew tired quickly. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn't have let me near the ammunitions because it was 'dangerous.' The way I look at it, the weapons aren't dangerous unless my finger's on the trigger and I've got the barrel aimed at someone. But I guess the police are more paranoid than most folk. In their line of work, I suppose they couldn't be blamed. They definitely had a respect for firearms.

But I suppose now I had to perform the task, with the regular people who do it either off killing zombies, or having been eaten, their corpses decaying in various areas of the precinct. The thought chilled me. I never had the time to sit down and think about what was really going on and absorb it all. Things were always on the go; running from one room to the next, gathering ammunition, doing shift work with Amber taking care of Sherry and making sure the civilians were sane and not about to start going medieval with each other with all the stress that's been tightening the air around us.

I broke out of my chain of thoughts when my hand met with the table surface. There was nothing there. The ammunition pile had been completely reloaded into their respective firearms, and yet there were more of them that were still empty. I was stricken with a brief sense of panic. We needed more. All of the stray bullets we gathered throughout the station wasn't enough to fill all the firearms around.

That damned weapon's ammunition room! Cranky and I had no problems getting in there when we were trying to make our escape before discovering the city had been quarantined. I'd gotten the keycard off one of the secretaries, who had since passed it on to an Officer Johnston. That name didn't ring a bell with me. He was probably one of the part-timers or a new hire. The only other way of unlocking the room was a transfer of the right amount of power to the lock, but I had no idea what the wattage should be, let alone play around with the machines to get those done for me. I'd have better chances of picking the locked doors like the evidence room.

The evidence room!

Yes, yes, yes! That's where they'd have evidence and shit gathered from crime scenes. There was bound to be a loaded gun or something in there! And it was usually crazy criminals who had the best weapons. My chest was bursting with hope as I rose from the desk and towards the double doors that led to the west wing. The place had been barricaded, I knew, but I was desperate for weapons. I wanted to get out of the precinct – alive. Of all the places to die, I didn't want mine to be my work place.

Standing in the west wing waiting room, I stood in front of a door that I knew was barricaded. It was separated from the rest of the room by a partition that reached about half the width of the place. A window was to my left, one that I instinctively stood well away from. After a lifetime of watching horror movies (and this includes "The Blob from Crescent Swamp" with Sarah), I knew that windows were the worst place to stand by in a horror movie. And this whole situation felt like one.

My gut feeling had proved correct as I could've sworn I saw something large and pink, like a giant humanoid lizard cross the surface of the glass on the exterior of the building. But when I turned to look, it was gone. Perhaps it was my imagination going crazy. But lately, with all the creatures running rampant around the city and in the police station, it was getting tough knowing where to draw the line between reality and fantasy.

Just through that door, around the corner to the hall, and I'd be in the evidence room. I carried a carrying case for one of Officer McGraw's sniping rifles. I needed something to use to carry whatever I could find and besides, it wasn't like Officer McGraw was going to store his rifle anytime soon. I remembered how long it took the officers to build those barricades but I didn't want to risk damaging them, and make it easier for zombies to get into the 'zombie free' sections of the station. So instead of taking the doors there, I decided to try the ventilation shafts.

Using the table to my right, at the far end of the room, I expertly removed a ceiling tile and hoisted myself into the crawlspace above, careful to keep most of my weight off the individual panels that covered the ceiling, and on the beams which served as the bone structure.

Then I took a misstep and crashed through the ceiling.

My hands grasped at the beams, but I held nothing in my palms but empty air as my body plummeted to the ground. I landed on my back and got the wind knocked out of me. Pain shot through my back and my skull, but the bulk of it was in my abdomen. I tried sucking in the air I needed so badly, but it hurt too much to breathe. So I lay there for a few seconds recovering, taking in my surroundings.

Cubed filing cabinets were stacked on top of each other in the evidence room, each one with a small lock. Fortunately, they were the king of locks that required a code to unlock, and not a key. Otherwise there was no way I could've gotten a single one open. Picking my first one at random, I headed over to the lock, and began turning the dials, feeling the click of the lock before turning it in the opposite direction. Don't ask me how I knew how to find out the number codes for these locks. But the simple act brought back a major sense of déjà vu. I had done this before, not recently and not in the precinct, but farther back in the past than that, much farther back. What was that Cranky said about us spending our lives on the street before my supposed memory wipe?

_Click!_

The lock opened for me, and I abandoned the thought, excited to see what was inside. The metallic drawer opened, albeit a little unsteadily as I pulled the handles of the heavy contraption with both hands. I peeked inside the darkness and smiled as the sight of two bottles greeted me, glass containers filled with a gray liquid. Judging from the sharp, brain cell killing scent, I knew they had to be explosive.

I pocketed the bottles and picked up the sheet of paper they were sitting on, detailing the evidence.

_06/22/98_

_Contents are to be handled with extreme caution and only by trained forensic staff. Discovered at a suspicious laboratory dealing with biohazardous chemicals, located in the downtown sector, south Abernathy Street. Suspects claimed to be working with Umbrella Incorporated but this information has yet to be confirmed. _

_Claim has been filed. #616952-10 _

_David Ford_

So this was official police evidence … I knew I could get into a lot of trouble by tampering with seized evidence, yet knowing these could serve as weapons egged me on. I left the sheet in the drawer and closed it quietly, then headed back up towards the hole in the ceiling I plummeted through.

**XXXXX**

Heading back into the east wing, I had expected to find Sherry. I opened the door leading to the wing with a little more force than intended, adrenaline from the excitement of having discovered the new weapons still not yet subsiding in my system. I couldn't wait to give it to Amber, Marvin, Rita, or Officer McGraw. Surely they would see how useful I am and finally allow me to engage the zombies with them.

"Sherry!" I called out into the hallway. "I'm back!" But the only sound that came back to me was the echo of my own voice ringing throughout the empty hallway. I called out again. "Sherry?" No response.

My heart skipped a beat. Where the hell could she have gone? She was given strict orders to stay here! And not even by me! Oh geez, the officers would have my head if they found out I let her scurry off on her own. She should've stayed by my side, even though Amber had told her to wait for me. At least that way I could've kept an eye on her.

In my panic, I ran through the empty hall frantically calling her name, but received no answer. And that was when it hit me just how quiet the precinct was. Where had everybody gone? The thought of being alone in such a large, elaborate building crawling with creatures with nothing but a pair of explosive bottles with me wasn't the least bit appealing. Fighting the urge to panic, I gathered my nerves and headed through the far door, leading further into the wing, where the interrogation rooms were located. I had only just stepped through the door when I remembered my last visit here, with that giant, pink, clawed _thing _was. I quickly spun on my heels and exited the way I came, back into the east lobby.

"That little twerp," I cursed under my breath, "she better be safe. Why did Sherry have to run off on her own? Why did she have to be so stubborn? Why could she just follow orders? _Why couldn't I just follow orders? _I told my conscience to shut up and continue the damn search.

"Sherry!" I called desperately into the hall. But this time, there was an answer.

"Kenny!" A young, sweet voice called back, like the voice of an angel, causing a wave of relief to wash over me.

Just as I rounded the corner, I saw that strange, vampire-like man making his exit into the main hall, his dark trench coat flapping behind him mysteriously like he was some kind of ghost. I took my attention off the mysterious individual and refocused on Sherry, thanking the good Lord she was still safe and alive.

"Sherry, there you are!" I exclaimed happily pulling her into a hug. "Where have you been? I told you to stay in Lt. Monroe's office!"

Her expression changed instantly from happiness to fear. "I …," she stammered, "I wanted to see where you were a …"

So the little brat really did disobey my orders. Why in the world do children have to be so difficult? Why couldn't they just do as they're told? It would make things a hell of a lot easier on the rest of the world. "Oh God, I knew I shouldn't have left you alone like that," I snapped angrily. But the anger was directed at myself, not so much at Sherry, though I doubt she would've been able to tell. If anything had happened to her, Amber would eat me alive. "You could've been killed by one of those things running around outside!"

"One of those bad dogs almost bit me," she explained. Shit – she encountered one of those creatures that attacked me and Sarah. I began to feel my knees get weaker with every word that came out of her mouth. "But this man showed up and saved me!" She pointed in the direction of where that creepy man once stood, though much to my relief, he was gone. "He said his name was Jake and he was an old friend of my daddy's!"

Old friend of her father's? The image of that monster we saw the other day flashed through my mind – that monster that could've damned well attacked us while we frolicked around like dumbass kids in a playground when I should've known better. Her father was a monster, I was sure of it. And if Umbrella was supposedly responsible for all the monsters, and that man was a friend of her father's … He was probably working for Umbrella. Jake – was that what Sherry said his name was?

Something sparked a feral anger in me at that moment. Umbrella's men were responsible for kidnapping Phil. Officer McGraw and the others never got around to looking for him given all the attacks we've been experiencing. And here was on of Umbrella's employees right here in the police station! Oh, the irony! "Jake", if that really was his name, was going to get an earful from me – and maybe some hot lead while I was at it. I was going to get any information on Phil's whereabouts out from him no matter what it took.

I remembered the kind of violence they used when they took Phil. Deciding not to take any chances this time, I led Sherry back to the main hall, where the cache of freshly reloaded firearms were waiting. "Come on! We have to get you to the library at once. There will be more officers around to protect you there!"

Sherry never saw the gun I expertly swiped with one hand off the oak counter of my workstation in the main hall, and slipped it into my pocket.

**XXXXX**

I found Jake walking towards the west wing, entering the first floor waiting room from the first floor. I followed him, hand holding tightly onto the handle of the gun, in case he turned violent, in which I'd need to withdraw it quickly. With a samurai sword strapped to his back, I wasn't going to take any chances.

Why would he be heading towards the west wing? I thought the area had been completely closed off due to zombie penetration. Of course he wouldn't be the kind to follow rules set forth by the officers. As an Umbrella employee, it didn't take much for this guy to arouse my suspicions. The door to the waiting room closed and I waited a good ten to fifteen seconds before following him in.

I placed my hand on the door handle, swallowing a nervous lump in my throat as I tightened my grasp, getting ready to open it. Now was not the time to get jumpy, not with so much at stake. I had to find out what happened to Phil, and walk out of the "talk" alive. And I wouldn't be able to do it if I were scared shitless like this.

"Come on, Kenny," I said to myself, "you can do this. Your friend is counting on you."

I pulled the door open quietly and stepped into the waiting room, my eyes scanning my surroundings for any sign of Jake. He was a big guy in dark clothing – not exactly a spectacle to be overlooked in this abandoned brightly lit room. But I saw nothing, save for the partition that separated this room from the rest of the west wing, the couches to my left, the strange wooden carving serving as a centerpiece. The darkest thing in this room was the hole in the ceiling where I had removed a panel to get into the evidence room and forgot to replace it. But that couldn't be right! I saw him walk into this room just a few seconds before I followed …

Something gripped my shoulder with a firm, painful grasp and spun me around. I don't know what came over me at that point, but I pulled the firearm from my belt buckle, aimed it, and fired, as if I had done it a million times before without a second thought. But before my finger could pull the trigger, the same hand that spun me around seized my wrist, pointed my arm upwards as I fired off the shot, missing my target completely.

Jake stood behind me grinning victoriously, his hand still holding on to my wrist. Taking advantage of my momentary confusion, he flung me backwards, causing be to stumble. Surprisingly, he didn't take the gun from me when he could've easily wrestled it from my grasp. He folded his thick, muscular arms across his chest, the insulting grin never leaving his face.

"You don't wanna be doing that, kid," he said.

"How did you …?" I asked, gripping my wrist. His fingers had dug impressions into my skin, now glowing red around the edges.

He ignored my comment and began a lecture. "Learn to size up your opponent before moving in for the kill. It'll save you a lot of trouble later – and maybe even your life."

"Where's Phil?" I demanded.

Jake cocked an eyebrow. "Phil?"

"You know who I'm talking about. Tall, blonde, dumbass jock from RCSS. You fucks kidnapped him days ago and I want to know what you've done with my friend!"

"Who are you saying kidnapped him?"

"You did! Umbrella did!"

"I don't work for Umbrella."

"Liar!" The gun came out again, as if it had a life of its own, as if it, and not me, wanted Jake dead. He somehow was able to anticipate this and slapped my hand away. He reached out with his other hand, stuck a finger into the ring of the trigger, spun the firearm with a flick of his thumb, out of my hand and into his. The move was executed so quickly, it was over in a blink of an eye, before I could even register what had happened. The next thing I knew, I was staring into the barrel of my own firearm.

I thought Jake was going to shoot me. But instead of pulling the trigger, he gave the handle of the gun a firm squeeze and ejected the clip, letting the little metallic bullets rain onto the floor at our feet. He flipped the gun again and handed it back to me, handle first.

"Little boys shouldn't play with big guns."

"You …"

"Now, out of my way, kid," he said, shouldering me aside, "there's a meeting I've got to attend." As Jake passed by, he nonchalantly took a cigarette sticking up from the breast pocket of my shirt and lit it with a zippo he'd seemingly pulled from thin air. He headed through the door leading farther into the west wing, moving aside the heavy barricades, and closed the door behind him.

And I was left to figure out where I went wrong with my interrogation plan.


	23. Chapter 21: The First Goodbye

**XXXXX**

**September 27th, 1998**

**Late Night**

It was this time that Cranky chose to make his announcement to us, a statement that rocked the foundation of my feeling of security in this hellhole of a city. I hadn't realized how I'd come to depend on him in the last two days. He was a complete stranger, albeit a little crazy with his shotgun when I first met him. But now I knew he could be trusted, could be depended on. Which was why his announcement had bothered me so much.

"I'm leaving."

Amber and I stared at him, our faces gawking with surprise at his sheer stupidity.

"You're crazy," Amber said weakly. She didn't have the strength to argue anymore. But I sure as hell did.

"What do you mean!" I bellowed. "Have you seen the kind of bullshit that's going on out there?"

"No, no," Cranky said, shaking his head, "you don't understand. There's someone I met when I came into the city. I was at J's Bar when I arrived on the twenty-second."

"What was the situation there like?" I asked.

"It was fine, at least it seemed that way," he replied, "until those freaks started collecting on the streets. There was a sweet woman who worked at J's Bar. Her name was Cindy. And … well … I want to make sure she's alright."

"Did you see Officer Ryman there?" I pressed. "Was he alright?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I didn't really pay attention to the guests. But I think I may have seen a uniformed police officer there, chatting with the bartender. Again, Kenny, I'm not sure. All I remember is Cindy."

"If there's one person I know who could shoot zombies down with words," Amber added, "it's Cindy. Don't bother wasting your time with her, Cranky. And with Kevin there watching her back, she'll be fine."

But Amber's words were of no comfort to him. "I have to go and see if she's alright," he repeated. "I bet your officers don't carry shotguns with them. Trust me, I'll be careful."

"You'll waste ammunition for the gun on your way over to the bar!" I insisted. "You won't have anything left by the time you get there, assuming you even find your way there in the first place!"

"I'm going, Kenny," he said with finality.

Amber and I were at a loss for words. There was nothing we could to do stop him. He was a stubborn jackass, so there was no convincing him otherwise. And he was physically bigger built than the both of us, which meant we'd have little success wrestling him into submission. Amber had her handgun, but he had a shotgun, so threatening him wouldn't work either. But I was a stubborn shit too …

"Then I'm coming with you," I said.

"Kenny, no!" Amber cried.

Cranky repeated her words. "No."

"But you don't know your way around town and …"

"It's safer for you here!" Cranky shouted angrily. "Trust me, I've been thinking about this for some time now and I've got everything worked up nicely up here." He tapped his skull. "And don't worry, I've memorized the way. I want to find Cindy without worrying my head off about you, Kenny. That's why you're staying here with Amber and the other civilians."

"I don't approve of this plan, Cranky," she said. "I strongly advise against it. Just don't … please, don't be stupid about this. We're in a serious survival situation. We can't afford to go off running around playing hero. We've been reduced to animals struggling to survive."

"But I can take you to J's Bar!" The stubbornness in me refused to subside, until …

"Don't argue with me, Kenny!" Cranky bellowed. I immediately clamped my mouth shut. "You're staying here where it's safe and that's FINAL!"

The outburst had silenced Amber and I. He waited for us to speak up, expecting one of us to say something, ready to shut us up yet again but neither of us did. A faint smile crossed his lips and he nodded in approval. His expression softened and he walked up to me, hiking boots echoing against the main hall's marble floor. It was the only sound in this quiet space.

I only realized my gaze was downcast when I heard Cranky's voice speaking to me.

"Look at me," he said. His words were strong, but his tone was gentle. I obeyed. Cranky reached into his belt buckle and pulled out a handgun. "Use this to protect yourself. Now that I won't be here by your side, you're going to have to learn how to use one of these."

I was too shocked to say anything. I only shook my head in protest, but he wasn't acknowledging the message I was trying to get across. Cranky continued talking. "The gun's fully loaded. Here's an extra magazine in case you run out. I don't expect to take that long so just hang tight here. Once I find her, I'll come back."

"No … no, don't do this," I pleaded, sounding more pathetic and weaker than I can ever remember in the fifteen years of my short life. I thought I'd been strong my whole life. Not very many other people can say they've lived on their own for as long as I have, surviving on the streets, learning the responsibility of controlling my own money, and later on maintaining my own apartment while going to school. I was responsible for myself only – an expert at looking out for number one. So you can imagine my surprise when I found myself wanting Cranky to stay safe in the station, and not wander out there in the infested streets. Had it been anybody else, I would've probably let them do as they wished. But Cranky was family – I was only beginning to understand that now. He was part of a family that I have been wishing to have all these years living in Raccoon, watching on the sidelines while my friends would go home to their parents and siblings everyday after school. Now I finally had what they did and suddenly, it was being taken away.

"Keep him safe for me, Amber," he said, and disappeared to the dangerous world outside.

It felt like I stood rooted to the spot for all eternity. My body wanted to run after him, but my rational mind ordered me to stay. I felt Amber's gentle touch on my trembling shoulder. "Come back," I pleaded, but the words came out as a barely audible cry in the main hall's expansive, hollow space.

**XXXXX**

**September 28th, 1998**

**Early Morning**

The ringing to my cell phone woke me up from my peaceful slumber. Well, all was peaceful until I remembered where I was. I quickly glanced at my watch, wondering who would be calling at this time of night, and while Raccoon City was going through all this viral bullshit. The caller ID feature on my mobile was unable to tell the source of the call, but I chose to answer it anyway.

"Hello?" I called into the phone, sounding a lot groggier than I actually felt. My eyes burned like they wanted to get back to sleep. I rubbed them, hoping the irritation would subside.

"Long time no talk, Kenny," came a soft, sweet voice on the other hand, one that bore an air of familiarity that I hadn't heard in awhile.

"Officer Valentine," I replied, fully awake now that I realized who it was. "It's good to hear you're safe. Why have you stayed out of touch for so long?"

"Things aren't going to hell just as the precinct, you know," she said. "The zombie population has shot up within the last two or three days. Seeing one or two of them a day wouldn't be considered normal anymore. It's impossible to go through an hour without spotting groups of them wandering the streets. What are things like down at the precinct?"

"It's like they can smell us or something," I reported. "We've fought of wave after wave of those things. It might have something to do with the fact that we got civilians cooped up here. Maybe their noses are sensitive to the concentration of fresh meat."

Jill sighed, releasing a certain amount of stress that would more than likely rebuild itself in her within the next hour or so. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you out of here sooner," she said, stepping back from the every day events and reflecting on the bigger picture of our predicament. It irritated me, really, for this was survival horror, not the best of times to sit back and reflect.

I made my thoughts known to her. "Let's forget about what we could have done and focus instead on what she should do." Jill sighed again on the other end.

"You're right," she said. "In between investigating the cause of the virus spread, reading about more cases in the paper hoping to find clues, and dodging zombies on the streets, I'm getting real fed up with all of this."

"Officer Valentine," I said, "we have to make it out of this nightmare. We can't die here – not in this kind of circumstance. It's too horrific, too inhuman. There's no dignity in dying in these conditions."

"I'm going to find a way out of this city later," Jill decided, "as soon as possible. Hopefully I'll be on my way out by morning. I'll stop by the station and get you, and anyone else alive."

"You've got a route planned out?"

"I'm hoping the city's trolleys will be able to take us somewhere," Jill explained. "But where we go from there – well – we'll have to see where the trolley takes us first. It's a half-baked plan, I know, but it's better than no plan. Unless, of course, you have something else in mind."

"All we've been doing down here is fighting off zombies. We're sitting ducks, pretty much, with no place to go. I'm game with your plan. Do you want me to spread the word on your arrival?"

"Better not," Jill advised. "That might get the officers' hopes up. And Amber – I wouldn't want her losing sleep knowing I'm on my way, just in case I don't make it."

"Don't talk like that," I said. "You'll make it here, Jill. I'll be waiting for you in the courtyard."

"No, you'll stay inside," she countered. "Trust me, when I arrive, you'll know. Until then, I want you to remain where it's safe, and listen to the other officers, okay?"

"Okay, Officer Valentine," I agreed.

"I've gotta go, get some equipment packed up. I'll likely be keeping to the side streets and alleyways. With the infestation in full swing, it'd probably be better to avoid the main roads. It might take me a couple hours to get there, but hang on tight, okay?"

"You got it. I'll see you in a few hours then."

I clicked the phone off and set it back down on the cold floor. Glancing around at my surroundings, I recognized the second floor balcony, and then remembered falling asleep there shortly after Cranky had left. I may have only known him for two days (as far as my memory would let me, in any case) but for some reason, I trusted him more than any of the other professionally trained officers running rampant in the building. He said it was because he was my big brother, and that we used to know each other a long time ago. I didn't know whether to believe him or not, but my gut told me it was true. And now that he was gone, I couldn't rest properly knowing he was out there in the zombie infested streets with nothing but a shotgun and limited ammunition to protect him against the hoards. I'd have felt a lot better if I was out there too.

I headed over to the windows that overlooked the courtyard and stared into the night. The road directly in front of the station looked abandoned with nothing but dust being swept across the pavement by the late summer breeze. I could still hear the distant moans of the zombies, but that had become a part of the Raccoon scene lately, I had to will myself to hear them.

I spotted a S.W.A.T. officer seated on one of the picnic benches down in the courtyard, probably on night watch, reclining against the table with his legs stretched out in front of him. He looked up at me, and I recognized him as being Officer McGraw. His balaclava lay unfolded and sweaty on the table. He delivered a friendly smile and a thumbs-up, while I smiled back and mirrored the gesture. Smiles were becoming a rarer occurrence lately, and I hadn't even noticed until I received one. And no matter how hopeless the situation, they were always reassuring.

I turned away from the window and sat back down on the floor, hoping to get some sleep. Things were quiet tonight. It was as if the zombies had decided to regroup and decide another plan to get into the precinct. Maybe those strange military fighters Marvin and Amber saw fighting outside had come in and managed to quell the uprising. Maybe the zombies gave up on finding humans to eat and started eating each other? The possibilities ran through my head, one after the other, and sometimes in circles. And that was what prevented me from getting to sleep that night.

My stomach growled, and I realized I could go for a something to eat. Maybe digesting food will give my body something to do, and eventually make me sleepy. I got back to my feet and headed to the emergency ladder at the back of the hall and climbed down into the first level of the main hall, slowly making my way to the door that led into the east wing.

**XXXXX**

I had reached the conclusion a long time ago that regardless of what facility one had been established in, cafeterias would always, without fail, serve the most disgusting food on the face of this planet. Yes, their "food" someone would always manage to beat airplane food. But tonight, thought what I ate was little more than stale bread, staler coffee and crackers, I could've sworn it tasted like heaven. The cafeteria provisions were slowly running out and it became clearer that we could only afford to stay in the precinct for so much longer. The lack of food and ammo would eventually drive us out.

The big man sitting beside me seemed to be handling it well though. I got a few extra crackers from him and another slice of bread. I never asked him for any of it. I just happened to choose to sit beside him and he suddenly gave me this look of pity and asked me to take his provisions. I'm not sure what about myself made him feel sorry for me, which was actually kind of offended me now that I think about. But at the time, I was so grateful for having a little something extra to eat that I thanked him and wolfed it down.

"You probably need it more than I do," the man said explained when I'd washed down the bread and crackers down with a swig of coffee.

"It's no problem," he said, running his hand under his nose. The guy reached back and untied his long black hair, and retied it into a ponytail – not exactly the most masculine feature for a huge guy in a denim vest, sporting a patch of a horned skull and flames sewed onto the back. But I thought it wise to keep my thoughts to myself. "Huge" wouldn't do him justice. Put it this way, even when we were seated, the top of my head came up to his shoulder.

"So how'd a kid like you get to be caught up in all this violence, anyway?" he inquired, a little more condescending that I think he intended. So I took no offense to his comment and replied promptly.

"The same way anyone else did. Nobody asked for this to happen to us."

"Just as well," the man said, rubbing his chin in thought, "for you to get stuck here with all these people spilling their guts over and over again, when they should've fuckin' died long ago."

"Oh, you're talking about the zombies."

"I was hoping to stay away from using that word, but I guess that's exactly what they are, huh? Man, we're all going crazy. Sometimes, I imagine the blue herbs growing on the mountains were just having a huge population surge and the pollen's spreading down here."

"And that everything going on," I continued for him, "is just a figment of our imaginations."

He looked at me and smiled. "Been wishing that too, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"Well," he said, banging a fist on the table, "too bad all our imaginations have to be so consistent with each others'. That's the only thing keeping this all too real. What's your name, kiddo?"

"I'm Kenny," I said, extending a hand. "I volunteer here at the precinct in my free time for work experience."

"Oh, a high school kid, eh?" he said, taking my hand in his. "The name's Ace. I'm from the biker group called the Road Demons. Nice to meet ya."

"Same here," I replied.

We sat there eating our food in silence without anything to further discuss. But I didn't want to just sit there quietly in the midst of monsters crawling all over the place and people dying left and right. I could tell Ace felt the same way, eating carefully, chewing his food thoroughly before swallowing, like this would be his last meal in this world. He was the first to break the silence.

"So, tell me …" he began, but was suddenly interrupted by the sound of crashing glass some fifty odd feet behind us.

We both spun around, but before my eyes could register anything, a blood curdling scream rattled my senses. Suddenly, there was nothing but a shower of blood, the source of it all blocked by scrambling bodies and panicked civilians. What the hell was going on over there ….

Then I saw it – the same skinless, pink-muscled creature with crazy elongated tongues capable of lifting a grown person, perhaps even piercing them through. A headless body crashed to the ground, dying nerves jerking the limbs. Judging from the slim jeans and baby-T, she had been a woman before dying. The head was nowhere to be found. Then, to my horror, another creature joined the first, and then another, crawling from unseen space behind it and into full view.

I joined the civilians in silent horror as they stared at the three skinless creatures looking at us, as if with their exposed brains, their tongues wagging from their mouths dripping saliva. They were about to have a feast in here. And within the next two minutes, a lot of people were going to die.


	24. Chapter 22: The Second Goodbye

**September 28th, 1998**

**Early Morning**

The world became a much smaller place for me that morning, despite the screaming, the gunshots and the cries of desperation. Everybody moved in a blur, including myself, and for those few moments, the only person left alive in the cafeteria during the wee hours of that morning was me.

There were about three or four of those pink skinless monsters with tongues longer than their bodies. The howls they emitted sounded like nothing I'd ever heard before, like a giant lizard with a sore throat. That's the closest description I can give for I wasn't paying much attention to those cries. I looked at the table before, hoping I'd be able to hide under there as the creatures made a meal out of everyone in sight.

Blood splattered all over the place, coating the walls, the tables and the floor with their fresh warmth. Terrified screams were cut off as heads were severed from shoulders, rolling about the marble floor, ribbons of blood and gore pulsating out of the wounds. I saw a lady sitting just a few tables down from me get decapitated despite my best efforts to avert my gaze. The way the tongues of those monsters sliced so neatly through the veins and muscles in her neck, the way her headless body slumped to the ground, limbs still thrashing, reminded me of a slaughterhouse. We weren't people. We were just cattle preparing to be butchered only to end up on someone's dinner plate. All sense of humanity in the cafeteria that night vanished into thin air as the remaining people turned into animals before my very eyes.

A few tired police officers, either just getting off night watch or those preparing for their morning rounds, were collected enough to fire at the creatures with the handguns they were equipped with. But it took more than nine millimeter bullets to take those creatures down. Their bodies absorbed the lead, devoured it, and kept on coming. I heard a police officer cry out in fear as he fired upon the hungry beasts, but his cries turned into screams of anguish and agony as one of the monsters got close enough to him and impaled him with its white, three-foot claws. I could hear the blood gurgle in his throat, cutting of his voice as it died only to be replaced by other screams of terror. Screaming wasn't going to get me out of here alive. The people dropping like flies stood as a testament to that. I had to hide.

"Kenny!" Ace cried suddenly, snapping me from my thoughts. The biker was still alive, much to my relief.

"Ace!" I shouted back above the screaming. "We have to get out of here! Run for the doors!"

"We'll never make it!" he said over the gunfire. He reached into his pocket and pulled own his own handgun, probably supplied by the precincts officers and began joining in on the fire fight. "Get under the table, now! This is going to get real ugly!"

Ace didn't have to tell me twice. I dropped to my knees, bruising them on the tile as I slipped about on the spilled blood of those whose worries were over. I crouched under the table, huddled into a ball and pressed my hands against my ears, hoping to drown out the loud gunfire, the death cries of all those around me, and prayed to God that I wouldn't be detected by the creatures.

Then I thought about the explosive bottles that I'd taken from the evidence room. The two of them were still in my pocket, weighing my pants down. Then there was the handgun Cranky supplied me with before he took off. I could use them to fight back at the creatures, but I knew how useful handguns were against them. Maybe the bottles would prove to be more adequate? But I didn't want to take the risk. I have no idea how they worked exactly, only that they were dangerous.

Suddenly the sounds of automatic gunfire filled my ears. I was too afraid to open my eyes to see where the source of the sound came from, and to be honest it could've been just something my brain was conjuring out to comfort me, or if it was my heart beating loudly in my ribcage. In any case, the sound was there and the howls of the dying creatures followed soon after.

"Get outta here now! More those damned skinless nutslappers are back! They done damned killed everybody in here!" I heard Ace cry. I wondered what crazy thoughts were running through his mind. We'd already established that there was no way we could've escaped the cafeteria with those monsters ripping apart anyone in their path. They killed people quickly and efficiently, dismembering them with their tongues, disemboweling them with razor claws, their jagged teeth ripping through living flesh with a single bite. Then, for no reason, it struck me. Ace wasn't talking to me. I was hidden under the table and his voice was booming overhead towards the doors …

**CRASH!**

There was a movement overhead and I found my vision suddenly assaulted by light. It took me a second to realize that the table had overturned as I stared curiously at the blood-bathed floor in front of me, the lights overhead illuminating the puddles of deep red blood on the floor, and the gore staining my knees and forearms. Then I saw Ace – or at least one half of him lying in front of me, his blank eyes staring up with horror at the ceiling. His torso stopped at the belly, and where his legs should have been, I could only see the torn remains of his intestines like giant, fat worms escaping his body, only to have their heads ripped off, their long bodies now spilling a brownish green fluid adding to the palette of human remains that coated the cafeteria.

I opened my mouth to scream, but only a weak yelp of surprise came out. My hands were still over my ears, but I realized quickly what was going on. I had been exposed, and the nearest creature had taken notice of me. It bared its fangs at me, its tongue wagging like some kind of demonic serpent, ready to strike at any moment. The creature hesitated, as if making the most of my final moment in life, making sure I felt and understood the fear its presence produced in me, before it decided to devour me.

After what seemed like an eternity, the creature raised a claw to strike the death blow, and at that exact moment, I felt some kind of peace falling over me. I somehow knew it would be quick. And the knowledge that all the hell I've been through these past few days would be over in a second comforted me as I sat there embracing death. But before those claws could come into contact with my warm flesh, I felt another layer of warm blood splash on me. It was as if someone had taken a bucket of warm water and splashed me with it. From somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard someone call my name but I couldn't be sure. I was too focused on trying to comprehend what had just happened in the last five seconds, but my mind could think up no rational explanation.

"Kenny get out of here now!" a familiar voice pulled my conscience back to reality. I recognized it instantly as belonging to Officer McGraw. How was it that he'd made it into the cafeteria? A wave of relief washed over me with the realization that there were more armed police officers in here. And I knew what a master Officer McGraw was with guns. He didn't have to tell me twice run. I gathered the nerve to run. Having one of the creatures dead, and with Officer McGraw providing cover fire, I knew my chances of making it were good. I hate to admit it now, but there was some slight disappointment at realizing I had a chance to live on and continue existing in the hell that Raccoon City had become.

I leapt to my feet towards a group of officers who stood at the door, just a few yards away. I noticed Jake, his gun still smoking casting a dark gaze over the creatures. He glanced at me and gave a firm nod. Was Jake the one who had killed the monster that would've taken my life? Did I owe my life to Mr. Jake Smith, the same man who I thought captured Phil, the same man I pointed a gun at and tried to kill just a few hours ago? What were his motivations? The answers to those questions would have to wait for later, and I tried to log them into my memory. I wanted to know who this guy was, if he was telling the truth about having nothing to do with Phil's kidnapping, and why I didn't feel like he could be trusted.

My foot slipped on something wet, like a sponge, but I knew it was anything but and I didn't want to look and find out what it had been exactly. I stumbled and fell onto my knees, landing in a layer of muscle and skin that had been separated from bone. The full contact with human remains made my stomach lurch, but the fall also yielded a comforting discover – a first aid kit, its white, metallic surface glinting in the pale light and the red cross painted on its surface catching my attention. Following my instinct, I reached out and grabbed the kit, still not looking behind me to see what was going on back there, keeping the faith that I'd be protected by the bullets flying overhead sent from the group of officers I ran towards.

Then I saw Amber, looking directly at me, her arms outstretched. I hadn't noticed her until now, and what a sight for sore eyes she was, despite her disheveled hair, the bags of lost sleep under her eyes, and the smeared, days old make up. Her gaze was strong and it held mine, silently telling me to keep running for her and to not look back while bits of plaster and debris rained down on me. I darted for the safe space between her arms, shutting out any distractions. For those few short seconds, that was my only purpose to survive, to make it to Amber. When I got within distance I leapt at her, throwing my arms around her shoulders while she wrapped hers around my waist. The collision took us both violently to the ground, but neither of us seemed to care.

"Oh, that was close," she breathed, her voice weak with relief, just barely above a whisper. I pressed my face into her shoulder and held her tightly as she gripped the hair at the back of my head. "You're alright, Kenny, thank God you're alright."

There was an uncomfortable concentration of sadness and relief inside of me, wanting to burst out in the form of tears, but my shaken body kept it captive in my chest. I could have sat there for eternity in Amber's grasp, her in mine with the kind of relief and comfort her presence provided after that terrifying ordeal. I hadn't experience horror like that before – not when those rotting dogs attacked Sarah and I, not those Umbrella thugs kidnapped Phil, and not when Cranky saved my life from the group of zombies that had swarmed my apartment block.

But Amber grabbed me by the wrist and hauled me to my feet and along with the other officers, we made out exit from the cafeteria. And finally, I noticed the silence that had fallen over the cafeteria. There was no more gunfire, no more screaming, just an eerie silence leaving us to absorb the events that had just transpired. But I wasn't about to think about any of that shit, not then, not ever. I even have trouble going back to that time today.

"Amber, get Kenny out of here now," someone ordered with an authoritative voice. I shot a look in the direction of the voice and saw Sergeant Wade Foreman. He was one of the officers I never got to know very well. In all honesty, he was quite the intimidating individual with his cobalt blue stare and the wrinkles of age and experience on his face. He never seemed to crack a smile though word through the grapevine (the same grapevine I promised myself I'd never get involved with) was that he had a good heart and had the trust and respect of the entire precinct, even those officers who weren't in his squad. Then there was me, the meek high school volunteer who worked hard eight hours a day for free, the absolute lowest you could go in the R.P.D. hierarchy. I sure as hell didn't have the nerve to break through Sergeant Foreman's icy exterior just to find a heart of gold. There were plenty of other gold hearts in the precinct to satiate my Midas-inspired needs.

"Come on, let's get you out of here," Amber said, leading me towards the safety of the main hall, now that we were back in the east lobby.

I remembered the glass bottles in my pocket. I never got the chance to use them in the cafeteria, and the note had said they were explosive, which could've only meant they'd be more effective against those creatures than the handgun bullets were. I decided to keep the handgun that Cranky gave me. I probably wouldn't be seeing much more of those skinless monsters and the officers might be needing the bottles more than I would.

"Wait," I said, reaching into my pockets. I pulled out the bottles and presented them with both hands to Sergeant Foreman. "Take these!" This was it. I was going to see that infamous golden heart I'd heard all the officers talking about when it came to Sgt. Foreman. I wondered what he looked like when he was ecstatic, for I'd never seen his face wear a smile before. But these new weapons would do the trick. These new weapons would definitely gain me his approval, and then I'd …

"What?" The angle of his perma-frown multiplied, his already narrowed eyes squinted right into mine. "Where the hell did you get these from! These are dangerous!"

"I … uh …" There was nothing I could say. Only gibberish came out of my mouth but fortunately for me, a foreign noise drowned my voice out. The officers looked around the hall for the source of the moans – moans, that's what they were. But it didn't take us long to figure out what kind of creature produced those.

Zombies, and it sounded like a whole swarm of them.

Sgt. Foreman turned his attention back to me, eyeing the bottles, swiping them from my hands. "I found them in the evidence room. Apparently Ford didn't know how to properly secure all those explosives he found at that secret lab over on Abernathy!" I explained honestly, straining to make my voice audible over the approaching moans.

"Tampering with seized evidence is a serious offence, kid!" Sgt. Foreman said, shouldering his gun. He turned his back to me and prepared to face the onslaught of zombies. With his back to me, he continued. "Remind me to whoop your ass when this is all over with!"

Amber decided this was the best time to get me out of there, and I was too happy to oblige. I fully expected her to come into the main hall with me but instead, she opened up the door and ushered me through urgently. I turned around to face her and motioned for her to follow along, but she shook her head.

"They need me!" Amber explained. "Stay in the main hall, and whatever you do, don't open this door!"

"But Amber, what if you …"

"Cranky's put you in the care of the officers," she interrupted. "I don't want him to come back and find you hurt, or worse and most of all, it is our duty to make sure civilians stay safe!"

"It's dangerous in there!"

"Don't open this door!" Amber repeated, and slammed it shut. I heard the audible click of the lock and I was left alone once again in the expanse of the main hall.

**XXXXX **

**September 28th, 1998**

**Mid-Afternoon**

I don't remember falling asleep last night. I remember planting my rear in the cushioned swivel chair usually reserved for the secretaries, leaning my head down onto the large oak desk and closing my eyes. Instead of the darkness, I saw images of gore, blood, entrails splattered all over the cafeteria's walls like some grotesque canvas of a paint throwing artist. Only this artist used primarily red hues. I remember trying to push those images out of my head, trying to get myself to sleep and gain the rest I'd be needing for tomorrow – whatever the hell tomorrow meant. My gut dropped into my stomach. The end was near, wasn't it? How long would I have to go on living like this, only to die at the claws of some monster, or feeling the teeth of a zombie bite into my warm flesh and rip pieces of it from me?

Despite fear inspiring thoughts, I somehow fell into a dreamless sleep. And the only reason I came to that conclusion was because I'd been woken up by my cell phone vibrating right by my head, its weight rattling against the polished surface of my work desk.

Before answering, I sat up groggily and rubbed my eyes, tasting my morning breath. I hadn't brushed my teeth in days and I was starting to get used to waking up to plaque coating my teeth and that slimy film on my tongue. I reached for the phone, accepted the call and placed the receiver to my ear without looking at who it was.

"Hello?"

I was met with a chorus of screams coming from the other line, somewhere far off into the distance. It sounded like one hell of a party with dishware and glass being smashed and loud thumps. But something was wrong. We were in Raccoon City – a boring mountain community with little to do. We did not know how to have fun – at least, not fun like that.

"Kenny …" a familiar voice called from the other end. "Oh, God, Kenny, you're okay." The speaker sniffed. His voice was cracked, his tone trembled, and he was barely keeping himself together."

"Justin," I breathed a sigh of relief, "I haven't heard from you in awhile. Things have been going to hell down here at the station. You won't believe half the shit I have to tell you that's happened to me. You're not gonna believe this, but you know all those talks of cannibals? Well it turns out they're not just cannibals …"

"They're fucking zombies …" Justin sobbed quietly on the other end.

"You've seen them too?"

"They're here, they're fucking HERE!" He sounded like he wanted to cry out in fear and desperation but had some trouble keeping his volume down.

My heart skipped a beat. My voice caught in my throat. "Oh no … Where are you?" I couldn't help it but the urgency of the situation caused my volume to raise a few notches. Justin was clearly upset by my panic and he started to whimper into the phone.

"I … I'm at Lisa's house," he said. "Julie's scheduled her birthday party for today. I didn't want to come, after Phil's disappearance but Julie convinced me that I needed to unwind a little. But, FUCK, this is so much worse."

"Where are the zombies?" I asked.

"Oh my God …" he started crying desperately into the phone, "they're all over the place, Kenny! Everyone's dying all around us! Everyone we know! And they're not just any horror movie zombies. It's Alex and Paul. They've bitten people. And these people are turning on everyone. There's hardly anyone left here."

"H…hold on," I said, trying to sound strong but my quivering voice betrayed me. "I'm at the police station now. I'm gonna try and send some officers after you guys." Of course, I didn't know how they'd do it, barricading themselves and me along with them in the precinct. Ironic that the police force who locked criminals here for a living were now trapped in the very same building themselves.

"The police can't come, can they?" Justin asked. "We haven't seen any yet. If they could have, they'd be here by now and anyone who looks remotely human out there are zombies. Oh God, we're alone … we're gonna fucking die!" He broke down and began sobbing. I'd never felt so helpless in my life. The only thing I knew I could do was say something to him that would calm him down but my gut wasn't willing to accept that.

"Are you hiding?" I asked.

"In the closet in her parents' room," Justin replied, calming down for a brief moment. "Sarah's with me. Lisa's down on the main floor but she's passed out. She's all I could find. But everyone else, shit, Kenny everyone else is DEAD!"

"You just left her there?"

"I tried to save her cause she didn't look like she'd been bitten. Sarah and I, we both did. But then the zombies began overpowering us and we had no choice. We had to run for it and hide. You've gotta believe me, we had no fucking choice against those things! Lisa's dead weight would've slowed us down if we tried to carry her and …" He trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence. I could just hear Justin's blood run cold at realizing he'd left one of our own classmates to die.

"It's just us left, Kenny," I heard Sarah say quietly, her voice a little farther away.

"O-okay, just stay there," I ordered. Having survived a zombie onslaught before, I wanted to think I knew how to do it again. But the only reason I'd lived in the first place was because Cranky showed up with a shotgun. Justin and Sarah had nobody but each other. I pictured them as two little hamsters cowering in a cage behind bars with a large black cat prowling just inches away from the cage. The cat's nose suddenly caught a whiff of their scent and followed it towards the cage and –

"We're here," Sarah said, taking the phone from Justin. She sounded a little more collected than him. Perhaps people dealt with life or death situations in different ways. Whereas Justin was panicking and crying, Sarah had remained calm, albeit a little shaken. She probably hadn't understood exactly what she was seeing, or at least was having trouble believing what she was going through. "We're safe in here for now, but … but … we're never going to make it out of this place."

"No, don't say that," I pleaded. "I'm gonna send the cops after you. Just hold on."

"Don't fucking say that," she snapped. "If the cops were going to show up, they would've picked up the damn phone when we dialed 911. It's been thirty minutes! They're not coming!" Now she was starting to lose her composure and the helplessness of my situation wasn't helping.

"Sarah …"

"We didn't call to ask you for help, Kenny."

"No, Sarah, don't be stupid!" I heard Justin protesting in the background but she continued, unhindered.

"We've called to say goodbye. If we're going to die today, then I want to take down as many of these freaks down with us."

"No, no, no," I said, fighting my shaking hands, my dry throat, and the cold perspiration that made my hands clammy. "Stay there, like I told you to. Don't do anything stupid!"

"Sarah, NO!" Justin cried, just as I heard a loud bang. The sound was followed by the groans of the undead that I had grown accustomed to over the last few days. Then Sarah screamed – not in fear, but in pure rage. I heard the rustling over clothes and Justin's nails hitting the casing of his phone as he struggled to pick it up.

"I'm going after her, Kenny. I'm not letting her take on those bastards alone."

"Justin, wait. Don't go out there! Are you listening to me? Get back here! Get back here, you fucker or I swear to God I'll kill you myself …" Hot tears stung my face. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would beat itself out of my chest cavity, pumping my hands and ears full of blood. The fear for my friends' lives and the grief of knowing I was about to lose them bunched tightly in my gut, forced its way into my heads and out my eyes in the form of these hot, stinging tears.

Gradually, the screams of anger and revenge turned into the screams of victims, of prey. There were no more sobs coming from the other end – only hysteria and agony as I heard the living flesh of my best friend and my potential girlfriend being torn their bodies. I felt the cold floor against my sides as I wept crazily. I was clutching the phone to my chest, instinctively removing it from my ears so I wouldn't have to hear Justin and Sarah's death screams, picturing their bodies with hideous chunks bitten out of them, blood shooting, squirting, bones being exposed … My face was frozen in a mask of emotional agony. I was lying on my side underneath the desk, wailing like some condemned banshee, cell phone to my chest, knees locked, spine curled in a fetal position. I couldn't move. Oh God, I wanted to move, to get off my ass and do something. But the realization of my helplessness numbed my body even more.

My consciousness shut itself off at that moment. I had lost the ability to think rationally. I had become an animal. When my muscles had relaxed, my joints unlocked, I clawed myself out from under the desk and thundered towards teal doors leading outside into the garden. I reached into my belt buckle and took out the gun Cranky had given me. I was going to kill every single one of those zombies out in the streets now. They had taken my home from me, taken my brother I never knew I had, and now they had taken my friends. There was nothing left to live for except revenge. And when my ammunition ran out I would bite them like they would fucking bite me. I was going to become one of them at eat every single goddamn zombie alive!

Something gripped my elbow to stop me from going any further. "Where do you think you're going?" I heard Officer McGraw's voice ask. "It's dangerous out there!" In my blinding rage, I hadn't even seen him approach.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I snapped, yanking my arm back, and thundered on. I violently kicked the door open but didn't feel the afternoon air come rushing at me, or the pain that exploded from my foot. I stormed up to the barred iron gates and tried opening them, but the locks and barricades from beyond were putting up more resistance than I could over power. I gripped the gate with my hands and shook them. Still, they didn't give. Fine, then. If I wasn't going through them, I was going over.

It was crazy how rationally I was thinking all of a sudden, given the emotional trauma I'd just gone through. Or maybe I wasn't thinking at all … I scaled the gate, first lifting my foot onto the horizontal bars, reached up high and pulled myself skyward.

Officer McGraw's hurried footsteps rapidly approached. He took a hold of my T-shirt, refusing to let go. "What the hell are you doing, Kenny!" he bellowed. "This is insane!"

I turned around to face him. He looked surprise to see me then, probably from my fiery glance, my tear streaked face, my bloodshot eyes.

"W…what happened to you?" he asked.

"Let me go." I said quietly.

"No," he said firmly. "You'll only get yourself killed."

"Let me the fuck GO!" I screamed, completely losing it then. I leapt off the gate and fell on Officer McGraw, who struggled to hold me still, taking both my hands into one of his while he wrestled to get his other arm around my neck.

"Holy shit, Kenny, calm down!" I fought back furiously, kicking my legs like a panicked horse, smashing my heels into his armored shins, crushing his face with the back of my head. I pulled an arm free from his grasp and while he was distracted, punched him across the face, spittle flying from his lips. I'd never acted so violently towards anyone before, especially not a police officer. And recalling those events, I know how stupid I was being.

Officer McGraw recovered from the blow easily and without missing a beat, moved expertly behind me as I lunged at him, nabbed my arms in his tight grasp and flung me to the ground like a rag doll landing painfully on my face. He pressed his knee across my shoulders, putting as much weight as he could to hold me down without crushing my ribs. I would have broken something if he'd put his full weight on my skinny prepubescent frame.

"I told you to calm down, kiddo," he said, pulling something from his back pocket, something that clinked in a metallic manner, "but you're clearly not listening to me." The handcuffs snapped into place around my wrists, binding them behind my back. It was then that he lifted his knee from my shoulders, allowing breath to flow into my lungs again. Officer McGraw got to his feet, but I was too worn out emotionally and physically (that damned smokers endurance) to follow his lead. I stayed on the ground, the weight of my body keeping me there with my cheek pressed to the cement with another wave of fresh tears flowing out from my eyes. "I never thought I'd be doing this to you, but I'm terribly sorry, Kenny," Officer McGraw apologized deeply, though he must've doubted that I was listening, "but this is for your own good."

"They killed everyone," I said, gasping for air between painful sobs. "They're all gone."

Officer McGraw looked at me with sympathy and got down on one knee. He picked me up from the ground by the shoulders into a sitting position and stared into my eyes with his crystal blue ones. "What happened to you?"

"Justin and Sarah called," I reported, trying to make his face out from behind the tears that clouded my vision. "They were killed right when I was talking to them! EATEN! And I heard fucking everything!" I cowered at the memory, hiding my face behind clawed fingers like I was some kind of monster. "I'm gonna kill those fucking zombies – every last one of them! I have nothing left to live for! I'm gonna kill those fuckers responsible for all this! I'm gonna …"

I was silenced as Officer McGraw pulled into a reassuring hug. He patted my back, as if he was burping a child. And sure I looked like a child standing next to him, though it wasn't gas I had to get out. It was an immeasurable amount of grief, pain and loss. I ground my forehead into his shoulder and continued bawling for I'm not sure how long. He didn't say anything to comfort me. He understood the reality of the situation and he knew I did too. There weren't any comforting things to say because anything of the nature would have been a blatant lie. Such were the circumstances in Raccoon City in that late summer of 1998. Justin and Sarah's deaths' weren't the first ones, nor would they be the last. However horrible the deaths that the zombie onslaught brought, it was nothing compared to what would come on October 1st.

**XXXXX**

**September 28, 1998**

**Late Afternoon**

I don't know how long Officer McGraw meant to keep me in handcuffs; probably as long as he could be sure I'd be safe from myself and from the others until I was given sufficient time to calm down. He left me in the waiting room on the second floor of the east wing, seated on one of those plush sofas against the window that looked down onto the streets below. I sat there with my hands cuffed behind my back, looking at my feet, trying to comprehend everything that happened that day from the cafeteria war with the monsters, to the mutilations of my friends.

Justin Thomas, my best friend in school was dead; eaten alive by the zombies and if I hadn't taken the phone from my ear, I would've heard every gruesome sound. Sarah-Lee Robertson, my potential girlfriend was gone too, having shared the same fate. I wondered if we would've ever worked out. Maybe she was the one for me, the only one of Julie's groupies to ever see me as a person, not a bridge to close the gap between the rift between the guys and the girls – the same rift that Lisa had started when Charlotte disappeared.

Lisa Hartley was a sweet girl; very likeable. Her innocence, while extremely alluring, was also the cause of the demise of uptown Raccoon City clique. We were shattered from one giant collective into a million little groups, though I'm sure she hadn't intended the cookie to crumble that way – or at all, in fact. It all started when her best friend, Charlotte Lascalles disappeared mysteriously from class one day, and never showed up again. Lisa and Charlotte were the two most popular girls in school, and Julie Wilberforce, who was until then considered one of Lisa's groupies, was there to claim Lisa quickly as her official best friend. I'll never know to this day why Lisa accepted that friendship. We all knew what Julie was like.

To the guys, it had appeared as if Lisa was merely looking to retain her popularity now that one half of the ruling girls of the tenth grade had vanished. And Julie, in her efforts to take Charlotte's place, turned into a monster, especially to her then boyfriend who was none other than Justin. He tried convincing her that Lisa was only using her for personal benefit, but Julie bit back fast and hard, accusing him of being jealous, over-protective, that he didn't love her, that she was only an item to him. The list never ended.

At the time, they'd had sex only once and Mary Perceval, one of Julie's groupies hoping to ride on her popularity coat-tails, had successfully spread rumors about Justin only being with Julie for sex, nothing more. And such personality attributes were deeply frowned upon in uptown Raccoon. Julie herself should have known better than to believe such atrocious lies, but she chose to go along with them anyway. This earned Mary Julie's loyalty and along with Luanne Wade, Leonie Brown and Sarah-Lee Robertson, Mary's closest friends, formed Julie's groupie.

The rumors hurt Justin deeply and he was met with scowls of disgust during those days from most of the girls remotely associated with Julie – and even from Milly, the new girl. I remember the week where I practically sat by his side the whole time while he cried like a child into my shoulder. And there was nothing I could do but be there for him. And the fact that Julie made attempts at Phil Barrett, a close friend of Justin's and mine, didn't help things. No wonder Justin ran to marijuana.

Phil ignored Julie's come-ons but the girl persisted until he'd had it with her and told her to bugger off. I remember it like the incident happened yesterday. Justin and I were at our usual spot at the front steps of the school with Phil when Julie had the nerve to come onto him with Justin sitting there. Phil tore her down, driven into rage by her tactlessness, by how she had treated Justin, by trying to recruit me into being a slave for her groupie with popularity as my reward – and she's stormed off angrily after the confrontation. Though it was clear Julie wasn't finished with Phil yet.

Politics between the teenagers of uptown Raccoon City were raging. Julie's clique had destroyed Justin and I was dragged down by association, though Julie had "so considerably" tried saving me from the effects of his decline by offering me a position with them as their lackey – an offer I promptly shoved back down her throat. It didn't help things when at the same time, Sarah and I had begun communicating on a regular basis and getting closer. Fearing rejection from the groupies, she had cut off communication with me as well without explaining anything to me, though I didn't have to guess. Phil was there to back me up, along with Jamie, Tyrone and Alex. I was friends with those three through association with Phil, though I was never close to them. Although in all honesty, the way Tyrone dressed always reminded me of one of those downtown bums – only his clothes were clean. By the end of that mess, the division in uptown Raccoon City stood as the boys (Justin, Phil, me, Tyrone, Alex and Jamie) against the girls (Julie, Sarah, Leonie, Lisa, Mary and Luanne.)

And then Jack Carpenter came. We thought we had it bad. No, Jack was far, far more lethal than Julie and her groupies. Lisa literally threw herself at him, and Jack was more than willing to oblige, taking her downtown to the dangerous parts where he was from. Lisa went to house parties, got tanked with people she didn't know, spent night upon night at Jack's place despite protests from her concerned parents. And the attitude she fought back with – it had floored everyone; her family and all her friends. Surely Lisa Hartley, the sweet, loveable daughter of two fine Umbrella scientists would never turn her back to the town that loved and raised her, in favor of the crime ravaged downtown lifestyle. But that was exactly what she'd done. To this day, I see no rational explanation other than her claims that Jack needed someone. But she knew, the girl fucking _knew _what downtown scum was like. Why did she do it? That's a question that'll be buried with me unanswered.

And to say that everything had ended in disaster was an understatement. Everyone involved was dead. All of a sudden, our sheltered teenage drama didn't seem to matter so much anymore. I found myself wishing everyone was still alive. I wished that we were back at school with the girls arguing about which makeup company should have been at the top of Vogue Magazine's merchandise list. I wished Justin and I were back at the front steps of the school with his joint, me with my coffee and cigarettes, pointing and laughing at Jamie as Phil flipped the boy's shirt over his head, watching Jamie stumble around, blind. I wished Alex was there ranting about how Tyrone's choice of clothing and hairstyle reminded him so strongly of Jack Carpenter, or Sarah's occasional glance in my direction, each time with a smile forming on her face.

And after everything, Lisa's friends were still willing to fight for her even as the zombies threatened to eat them alive. I could just see Justin and Sarah, standing on either side of an unconscious Lisa, swiping viciously at the walking corpses of their former friends, hoping to keep them away from the girl. Screaming in fear but fueled by loyalty. I felt my lower lip tremble at the loss of everyone, not just my friends. There were so many things about them that I hated and it was funny to think I'd find myself wishing we were back to those times after the events that had transpired. And they had all died. Out of everyone, why the hell was I the only one left alive to endure this loss? What made me so special that I …

"You feelin' okay, kid?"

The deep, gruff voice interrupted my thoughts and I looked up to see who had approached. Standing in the doorway that led out to the second floor mezzanine was none other than Mr. Jake Smith, the vampiric looking man I tried to shoot yesterday; the same man who had saved my life in the cafeteria earlier this morning.

"I'm fine," I croaked, suddenly aware how horrible my voice sounded. "Listen, about the other day when I tried to kill you, well, I wasn't thinking properly and …"

"Don't get too sorry," he said, waving the apology off, "you would've never pulled it off anyway." I felt a tinge of bitterness. "But just so you know," Jake continued, "I don't work with Umbrella. I wasn't lying back there."

"I appreciate it and all, Mr. Smith," I said, "but … but why'd you feel the need to come and tell me this?"

"I saw you out there today," Jake said, motioning in the direction of the front gates. "And I saw how crazy you were – attacking a police officer and all. These pigs … I mean, these fine officers clearly value you. Don't ask me how I know, I just got a feeling, that's all. And it was clear, for you to attack an officer and to not get locked up for it – well, it's pretty obvious you've already lost a lot and I just wanted to provide whatever peace of mind I can."

"It's just that I …"

Jake held out a hand, motioning for me to stop. "I don't care what it is, and I don't want to know either. I've got enough on my plate to worry about. But I wanted to give you this much peace of mind. I'm not with Umbrella nor will I ever be if I make it out of this damn city. And I did not kidnap your friend Phil, nor am I behind it. But I do hope you'll find him."

"Thanks," I mumbled in response.

"Oh, and of course," he said, holding up a little silver key between his grimy fingers, "this is for you."

"Is that Officer McGraw's key?" I asked, my eyes widening. "How did you get it from him?"

"Let's just say I don't exactly have a spotless record. And I know what it's like to be locked up, and it ain't fun," Jake said, motioning for me to turn sideways and expose the cuffs to him. "Just make sure you keep yourself out of trouble. I'm not gonna do this again. You got it?" He nudged my elbow with the back of his palm, moving my wrist from the grasp of the now loosened cuffs.

"Yes, sir," I mumbled.

Jake nodded once. "Good. Now try and stick with the other civilians. I think there may be a way we can get out of here." He turned around to leave the waiting room and was at the door when I stopped him.

"Mr. Smith?" I called out.

"Yeah?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Thanks for helping me out down in the cafeteria." There was no pride in my voice. I spoke quietly, staring at the floorboards between my feet.

"You're the only one who walked out of there alive, you know," Jake said, closing the door behind him.

**XXXXX**

Where was everyone? I'd been wandering around the station for the last few minutes looking for some other sign of life, but it looked as if everyone had either died, disappeared, or was roaming the halls as one of the undead. That was when the panic really seized me and I fought to suppress it. The officers had disappeared, which meant that there was nobody left who knew how to wield a gun properly. I had one, but Officer McGraw had confiscated it from me when he had me cuffed. I thought about staying back in the waiting room and do just what I was meant to do there – wait; wait for Officer McGraw to return, or for Cranky to come back.

There were so many options going through my mind and I couldn't decide which route to pursue. Staying put would've had the highest probability of being discovered by someone, but that was only assuming there was anyone left to discover me. Could I have been the only soul left alive in the building? No, there was no way. Jake had just released me before. But where had he gone? I hadn't seen another soul in the precinct for a few good hours now. Maybe it was time for me to leave. The sun was still bright in the sky, and I could see whatever monsters were coming at me from a mile away so I'd have enough time to book it. Maybe if I could just slip out the city through those barricades and risk getting shot by the military; it was definitely more merciful than being eaten alive, and then reanimating as a zombie.

No, what was I thinking? I had to wait it out. I wouldn't abandon anyone here if there was anyone left alive. I wouldn't leave Cranky all alone in this city. That crazy fucker, why did he have to insist on leaving? What if he was dead too? Would I spend the rest of my life waiting here until some creature came in and killed? How long was I willing to wait until I attempted escaping by myself?

My thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the gentle creak of the main door as it opened, and closed shut again. Someone was here! That was my first thought, but then I realized it could have just as easily been a zombie or some creature. I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat as I tried figuring out what to do at that point. Well, I was on the second level and back in the waiting room where my journey through the station started. They were downstairs. If it was a zombie, there was no way it'd find its way up to the second floor balcony. If it was a person, they would spot me and I wouldn't be alone anymore. If it was a monster … could monsters climb walls?

I decided to hell with the risks and try my luck, bolting out the threshold of the waiting room. But by the time I heard my footsteps echoing through the main hall, whoever it was had gone. The main hall was empty. How in the world would they be able to come in so quickly and then vanish in such an expansive space, unless …

I ran back into the waiting room and pressed my face to the window, hoping to see someone leaving the precinct grounds. Someone else was probably in the same boat as I, thinking they were all alone in the station and decided to make a run for it, to get out of the city. But didn't they know we were quarantined? Maybe they were willing to take their chances with the military too. Maybe they were just as crazy as I was. But of all people to think so irrationally, I'd never expect it to be Lt. Amber Bernstein.

"Amber!" I began bashing my fists against the window, hoping to get her attention. Amber seemed like she was in a rush to get the hell out of there, her red curls bobbing as he jogged, hiding her face from me. "Amber!" I pounded the windows harder this time, but she paid no attention and kept on her merry way, heading through the precinct gates with some difficulty, and out towards the empty streets.

Except from my vantage point, the streets weren't as empty as I hoped, and there was a single solitary zombie heading towards her, its arms outstretched, closing the gap between itself and Amber with heavy, wet footsteps.

"Amber, watch out!" I cried, though I knew she couldn't hear me. But I was determined to get her attention, smashing at the window all the harder. That earned me nothing but bruised knuckles and not even a glance in my direction from Amber. All I could do was watch helplessly as the zombie attacked her, launching itself at her upper body, going straight for her neck. I closed my eyes, not wanting to have to see her life end like this – but instead of hearing a scream, I heard a screech of tires and a resounding thump that even I could hear from inside the building.

There was a car. A black convertible had smashed into the zombie, killing it instantly. Amber was on the sidewalk, cowering in fear. A ride; she had a ride. Maybe I could've used it to get out of there too! Wasting no time, I bolted out of the waiting room and scaled the balcony guard. It was a one story drop onto a stone floor but I would've rather broken a few bones than have to stay in this place waiting to be eaten alive. The fall took me by surprise. It had been a longer drop than I'd anticipated. My body crumpled into the floor painfully, driving the air from my lungs when I landed. My knees smashed into the floor, causing tears of pain to roll from my eyes while I could only clutch at my knee and hiss in agony. It took me a second to collect myself and continue towards the double doors of the main hall, stumbling as I went.

I opened the door and was about to scream for the car to wait for me. Amber had already clambered into the back seat and the driver was getting ready to pull away when I suddenly paused, recognizing him instantly. Jack Carpenter. And the blonde girl strapped comfortably into the passenger seat was none other than Lisa Hartley. Instead of calling out to them, I froze in my tracks. She'd made it out. Lisa had left her party alive and well. Jack was probably there at the party too and they'd left everyone there to die. So after I had screamed at her for her disloyalty to all her friends, Lisa had invited Jack to her party to take my place. The realization dawned on me so quickly, I couldn't find the voice I needed so desperately to make them aware that I was there.

Thoughts of Justin and Sarah defending the unconscious Lisa Hartley flashed in my mind; how honorably they must have fought to preserve her life and this was how she repaid them. She could have saved them from the onslaught of the zombies. They didn't have to die like that, not with me on the phone, subjected to hearing their dying screams. Lisa could have stopped it but she chose not to. She chose to abandon her friends and …

Rage … again, the same old feeling of rage had overcome me as I saw the car pull away from the curb as I limped towards the gate, my efforts hindered by the crash landing from the second floor balcony. For a few moments, I completely forgot about the dire situation Raccoon City was in. All I could understand was the hate that overpowered my emotions at that point, seeing them drive off like that, leaving me behind just as they had left the others. I knew it wasn't on purpose. I knew there was no way they could've known I was there. But the idea that Lisa could have done it to me, the mere concept of it …

"Jack Carpenter," I said quietly to myself, "Lisa Hartley. I hope neither of you make it out of town. Because if I run to into you after all of this bullshit blows over, you're going to wish the zombies had gotten to you first."

And I was going to make it out of town, someway, somehow. I wouldn't let the others die in vain. I refused to let the legacy of our friendship die out like this. Justin, Phil, Sarah, and everyone who had mattered to me would not be forgotten the way Lisa forgot about them. If their memories were going to live on, they weren't going to if she ever escaped. They were going to live on in me.

I stepped out onto the now empty streets, breathing in the bitter exhaust that the convertible had left behind after it peeled off into the distance with Amber in the back seat. I felt a bitter taste on my lips, expressed in the ever more bitter words leaving my mouth.

"I _hate_ you, Lisa Hartley."

**XXXXX**

**Author's Notes: **

_On Uptown Raccoon City Politics: _Information presented in Kenny's depiction of the uptown teenagers of Raccoon City is based on genius ideas from fellow author, Hyperactive Hamster of Doom from her story "Resident Evil: Project Lucifer." I have taken creative liberty with the information provided in that story, and added a few thoughts of my own through the eyes of my main character, Kenny.

_On Kenny/Lisa Relations: _Despite the incredibly negative light in which Lisa Hartley and Jack Carpenter have been presented, I would like to clear any possible misconceptions that this reflects my personal opinions on these borrowed original characters. Like many other readers, I was a huge fan of Project Lucifer and I believe that HHoD has done an amazing job with that story. She takes great care of her main characters in making them believable, enabling us to sympathize with them and their situation. Any negative feelings towards Jack and Lisa have been added to broaden the picture for interest's sake, and are the opinions of Kenny – NOT me!

_On forgotten credits: _Along with Jake (Smith) Cavanaugh, Eric Rawlings and David McGraw, the biker character included in the cafeteria scene named "ACE" and Sergeant Foreman are property of fellow author E-ZB. For a different perspective on the cafeteria slaughter scene, check out his story, Darkness Arises – a story chronicling the events surrounding Jake Cavanaugh during his time in Raccoon City.

Only one more chapter left to go folks! But you haven't gotten rid of me quite yet. There are still two more Resident Evil fics for me to complete before I can call it quits with the RE section. Thanks to everyone for sticking with me on this.


	25. Chapter 23: Desperate Times

**Author's Notes: **_Okay, so this was initially meant to be the final chapter, but it turns out that I had a lot more to cover than I'd thought. So there will indeed be one last chapter to follow this one – the final battle. This entire chapter is my take on the Desperate Times scenario in Resident Evil: Outbreak File 2, which does in fact, take place on September 29th, just hours before the beginning of Resident Evil 2. This is confirmed when you finish the scenario playing as Kevin, where you will see a police cruiser drive by the van the survivors escape in, in the opposite direction towards the precinct. It is hinted that Leon and Claire are inside the cruiser. We also see Marvin, injured from the final battle, enter the room we find him inside, in Resident Evil 2. He's holding his side in pain from the zombie fight – the same fight that will serve as the final battle for this story. _

**Spoiler Alert: **_For those of you who haven't_ _yet played the Desperate Times scenario in Resident Evil: Outbreak File 2, this is a warning. This chapter contains major spoilers for this scenario including the objective, and plate locations, cut scenes … everything. There, now you can't say I didn't warn you._

_Now, on with the show._

**XXXXX**

**September 29th, 1998**

**Evening**

The number of survivors holed up in the Raccoon City police station had dwindled to just a few remaining people. Tony the dog keeper was still alive, left to consider his fate in the first floor waiting room – the very same room where I had encountered Jake for the first time. I hope he didn't notice the hole in the ceiling I had caused when I decided to raid the evidence room for some possible weapons. There was probably more on his mind than the damage done to the property anyway, like his life or the fragility of it, for instance. I felt sorry for the bigger-built dog keeper, who had shown his passion for those animals as he tended to their every need down in the kennels. And how did they repay him now? By threatening to tear him limb from limb, of course. Such was the nature of whatever they were infected with – the strange disease killing anything alive and reanimating them as creatures that fed on living flesh. I'd watched horror movies before, and we seriously felt like we were in one. The only difference is everyone was a main character, and in this story, nobody was discriminated against. The threat was all the same regardless of our positions in this twisted tale, how old we were, or our intelligence level.

Tony had started acting up while we were discussing any possible routes out of the precinct, and sort of condemned himself to isolation as a result. Rita and I were happy to oblige, leaving him there in the waiting room where he stood in a corner like some kind of statue, thinking about God knows what. Rita was busy typing away on the computer in the main hall at my work station, surfing the station's archives for a complete map of the station. The building served as an art museum in the late 1800's and there was a likely possibility of some tunnels sealed up when it had been converted into a police station.

There was only one computer terminal on that huge oak desk and I decided to make myself useful by reloading whatever few bullets were left into the firearms before me. We'd spent an hour like that, me stuffing the individual bullets into the magazines, sliding them into the firearms (and mind you, I was getting quite good at it), while Rita scoured the system's archives. Neither of us said a word to each other for a long time. She was busy paying attention to every little bit of detail that met her intense gaze through the liquid crystal display screen, while I stared off into space as my body performed the repetitive task of reloading. And then the main door opened.

Rita and I jumped to our feet at the sudden motion. I swiped a handgun from the table and tossed it to Rita who snatched it expertly out of the air with one hand. With my free hand, I had a shotgun aimed at the intruders, holding it like Cranky did along one arm like some kind of gun toting killer. If one didn't know any better, one would have gotten the impression that we had years of assassinations and gun fights under our belts. I suppose in a situation like this, you had to either learn to shoot real fast, or die. Maybe that was why we were still alive.

"You guys sure look happy to see me," the familiar face noted sarcastically upon entering the main hall, seeing the look of anticipation in our expressions. He casually brushed a lock of brown hair away from his eyes and upon seeing the fear in our faces dissolve upon recognition, spread his arms out to greet us.

"Kevin!" Rita cried, the relief apparent in her tone and the way she tore herself away from the computer.

"Officer Ryman!" I said happily, dropping the gun and running full speed towards him.

Rita crashed into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck, throwing him off balance. As Officer Kevin Ryman fought to regain it, I threw myself at the both of them, taking all three of us to the cold marble floor.

"Whoa, whoa!" Kevin cried through fits of relieved laughter, with the both of us on top of him. "I'm happy to see you guys too, but this is a bit much, don't you think?"

"Don't ever fucking do that to us again!" Rita said, punching him on his armored chest piece. "God, Kevin, we assumed you were dead!"

"I could just as easily be," Kevin replied, getting back to his feet. "You have no idea what I've gone through the last couple of days just trying to escape this damned town." Kevin extended a hand to me and pulled me to my feet. "I expected you to be out of here by now," he said to me, his tone bordering on a scolding. "When I last spoke to you, you said you were planning on leaving town that night."

"That was the same night all of this went out of control," I replied, "the same night you went missing. I don't think I need to tell you why I never made it."

"What's important," Rita interrupted, "is that we're all alive and well. Really, Kevin, I'm so glad to know you're okay."

"And it looks like you brought some friends with you," I added, noticing the group of seven fellow survivors that Kevin had most likely protected during their mad tour of a zombie infested Raccoon City. A quick glance and I knew this was one of the most diverse groups I'd ever seen. Among them was a sweet blonde waitress, a young oriental student, a hard edged blonde woman in a maroon suit, a gruff security dark, a mechanic of sorts with a dark gaze, a cultured uptown middle-aged businessman and a loud ghetto boy.

Kevin turned to face the group and smiled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "These are my co-workers," he said, motioning to me and Rita. "Rita Wilcox, and Kenneth Feng."

"I'm sure the state government would be pleased to hear about you hiring a ten year old," the suited woman noted, looking at me curiously. She seemed to be questioning the fact that it was legal to be letting me work.

"I'm fifteen," I added defensively.

She straightened in surprise, but decided not to pursue the matter. "Never mind Alyssa," Kevin whispered to me, "she's one of those crazy reporter types – doesn't know how to talk to people without getting under their skin."

"Alyssa Ashcroft?" I asked, looking at her. Her face beamed with a smile at me recollection of her name.

"The one and only," she replied. "I see you've heard of me?"

"You're the journalist who found that photograph of the zombie on one of Raccoon's earlier victims," I said.

"Well," she began as she tossed a lock of hair behind an ear, bathing in the credit I was giving her, "I wanted to publish the story, but the Chief of police had it confiscated from me on the grounds that it would cause an uproar – and who the hell cares, I mean, Raccoon's citizens deserve to know the truth, right? - and for other 'unknown' reasons and sometimes, I swear the creep as ulterior motives or something…"

Kevin rolled his eyes as Alyssa continued blabbering away and looked at me, blaming me with a simple gaze for what I had started.

"Well the article wasn't kept properly," I added, "because it got mixed up with other clippings from past papers and the kind of information I discovered …" Kevin slapped a gloved hand over my mouth, promptly cutting me off. I scowled in annoyance and tried talking through his glove, but my voice only came out as a muffled mumble from his strong grip on my lower face.

"Alright, folks," Kevin announced to his traveling party, "we're going to be taking some refuge in the police station, and hopefully get something to eat and get some well needed rest."

"We're trying to secure an escape route," Rita added. "There have been countless attempts – like a route through the sewers though I'm not entirely convinced that's the safest way. But we've finally come up with a theory that might make sense."

I bit down on Kevin's finger hard enough for him to feel it even through the glove. He yanked his hand back and cradled it. "Holy shit, Kenny, if I didn't know any better I'd have thought you were a zombie."

"We're thinking that since the building used to be an art gallery, there might be some sealed tunnels from those days," I explained, ignoring Kevin's scowls.

"I'm printing out an updated map of the place right now," Rita said, and I am going to discuss our chances with Marvin. "Meanwhile, you guys can rest up here, and maybe get something to eat from the caf…" Rita was silenced when she spotted me shaking my head at her, reminding her of what had transpired in the cafeteria not even a day ago. "…I mean the vending machines."

"Only if you don't mind salt and vinegar chips," I elaborated. "Everybody's eaten everything else."

**XXXXX**

Rita didn't let me into the chief's office in the east office while they discussed their plans in there with Marvin and two surviving officers. They did, however, leave the door open wide enough for me to hear everything that was going on. I sat at Officer Ryman's desk, folding scraps of paper from the recycling bin into basic origami shapes. I'd never been much good at it, but at least it was something to do to keep me occupied while I listened in on their plans.

"Take a look at this," Marvin said, unrolling the map Rita had printed out. "It's a map of this place back when it was an art museum. There should be a ventilation tunnel underground."

"And that'll get us out of here?" I heard Rita ask.

"It should. But it's so narrow, you might be the only one who can fit through."

Great. So there was a way we could take out of here, but only Rita could fit through the hole. Well, I was probably skinny enough to do the job as well …

"So I'll get help and come back, right? Looks like it's a race against time."

"Now that we've lost communications, there's nothing else we can do. All right, everyone, we've gotta hurry up and find a way into that tunnel! It's gonna be our way out of here."

The officers' footsteps made their way out of the cramped office and I turned around in Kevin's swivel chair to face them. "A secret tunnel, huh?" I asked them.

"That's right," Marvin concluded, "and it may be our only way of escape. Rita's offered to go make an exit and come back with some help. But first, we need to get in."

I don't know why, but suddenly, an idea sprung into my head. In the underground parking lot, the Chief Irons handed me a bunch of crescent shaped metal plates, each one with a jewel of a different color embedded in the center. I remember he said something about those plates opening some kind of escape tunnel …

"Won't the tunnels give the zombies another way to enter the precinct?" I asked, using the same logic the chief used against me.

But Marvin only cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "It's supposed to be a ventilation tunnel," he explained. "There's no way a person could go through it standing up. I doubt zombies know how to crawl for prolonged distances."

"So … the chief lied to me?"

"What?" Marvin asked, gripping me by the shoulders. "You know about those tunnels?"

"The chief told me about them," I explained, "but he said it would be dangerous to access the tunnels because the zombies could use them the same way we do, and gain access to the precinct …"

"God DAMN that man!" Marvin cursed, driving his fist into the wall. "I swear, he's trying to kill us all!"

"I know what tunnel you're talking about. It's the one by the fountain, right?"

"Yes, yes!" Marvin said excitedly. "Did the chief tell you anything else about it? Like how to access it?"

"We need these plates …" I reached into my pocket to pull them out. But when I felt nothing, my heart dropped to my chest. Marvin's expression faded from a smile into a devastated frown, changing along with my own facial expressions.

"They're not here," I reported. "Oh God, I swear, I had those plates. He gave all of them to me!"

"We have to find them," Rita said, pounding a fist into an open palm. "Please, Kenny, think! Have you used them at all?"

I racked my memory for any recollection of what I might have done with those plates. Did I leave them at the main desk? Or maybe I put them in the bag with the other weapons Cranky and I had gathered from the apartment block? No – I hadn't seen the bag since we got here. What had I done since then? I remember babysitting Sherry, meeting Ben the reporter and … oh no … I went scrounging for weapons in various areas of the precinct. I remembered the interrogation room, picking up weapons, taking a plate out, putting it on the shelf, replacing it with some boxes of ammo and forgetting to re-pocket the plate when I ran out of there like a bat out of hell after seeing those pink monsters …

"They're …" I gulped, realizing I was about to tell these fine officers what they really didn't want to hear. "The plates are scattered throughout the precinct." Yeah, those metallic clangs I was hearing weren't just a figment of my imagination. Those things were falling out of my damned pockets!

"Where?" Marvin demanded, taking me by the shoulders again. He looked intensely into my eyes. "Tell us, Kenny. Try to remember. We're counting on you. All of us are."

I stared at the ground, racking my brains for memories of the past few days. "The … the interrogation room," I replied, pointing in the direction. "The morgue …" I paused again. "The waiting room …" With every new location I revealed, the beaming smile on both Marvin's and Rita's faces grew and grew.

"How many plates were there?" Rita asked, when I recalled as many as I could.

"Four or five," I replied, "I'm not sure."

"Well, what are we waiting for then?" Marvin said, clapping his hands together. "Let's go get those plates and get the hell out of here!"

"I can go with Rita to the tunnels too," I offered. "I can fit, probably easier than she can." I didn't mean to insult her, but nonetheless, my comment earned me an angry stare from her.

"Yes, but you can't drive," Marvin said. "We need a transport truck to get us out of here. And now, I suppose, Kevin and his friends too."

**XXXXX**

Back out in the main hallway, I explained the situation to Kevin and the rest of his group. Through the discussion, I got the opportunity to get somewhat familiar with his crew. They were the most varied group of survivors I had ever seen, each one with his or her own special talents, and it was no wonder they had managed to survive together. It almost seemed as if fate had brought them together to work as a team, as if they were destined to live through the hell that Raccoon City had become and escape to tell their individual stories.

Yoko Suzuki sat on the steps of the raised floor at the front of the main hall, watching me intently with an interested gaze. She was a short girl with narrow Asian eyes, jet black shoulder length hair and a round innocent face that could've passed as a teenager around my age, perhaps even younger. But it was the calm and collected, almost mysterious way she composed herself that suggested life experience beyond her appearance. And therefore it had only come as a slight surprise that she was the youngest of Kevin's group at twenty years old. She carried a dark brown knapsack strapped over both shoulders that seemed to weigh her down. Upon inspection, I discovered boxes of ammunition for nearly every handheld firearm imaginable – nine millimeter rounds, shotgun shells, magnum rounds, and even some healing herbal concoctions wrapped neatly with scrap pieces of paper. She didn't seem particularly strong nor agile, nor battle hardened, but if she had any strengths, it would have been that backpack of hers, allowing her group to carry more useful items than they would have otherwise could.

Alyssa Ashcroft was the journalist who I previously became acquainted with, having discussed my findings with her earlier regarding the zombie photograph she had confiscated from chief irons.

"I brought it to the precinct because I thought the information would be beneficial to the police department in solving the mystery of the cannibal attacks," she explained, "but instead, that fucking piece of fat took it from me spewing off some bullshit about not wanting to alert the public. I swear, I should have just published it in an article and then we wouldn't be in this huge mess in the first place."

Alyssa gripped a handgun in her right hand, her index finger hovering over the trigger at the emotional peak moments of her frustrated rants. She had to be calmed on numerous occasions by Mark Wilkins, a thickly built security guard with the gentlest of demeanors, sharply contradicting hers.

"You better save those emotions for the next time we encounter those undead things," he said. Mark was among the most level headed of the group. He didn't speak much, but when he did, I got the feeling that it was important and deserved our attention. Yet I couldn't stop staring at the light reflecting of his bald head. It looked like his skull wasn't made of skin and bone, rather of smooth glass or maybe even crystal, and if we rubbed it for luck …

"I'm almost out," the suited man said who turned out to be a doctor at the Raccoon Hospital by the name of George Hamilton, inspecting a strange looking gun in his hand. It didn't look like a regular handgun although it could be held like one. The contraption was made of silver and resembled a flare gun with a thick, short barrel.

"What is that?" I asked, my curiosity finally peaking.

"Oh, this?" George asked, raising the odd looking weapon. "It's a capsule shooter. It fires healing pills made from the recovery agents found in the herbs that Cindy's storing in her special case. And speaking of which, Cindy, I'm going to need some more blue and red herb concoctions, if you can spare them.

"I don't know if I can," she replied regretfully. "If we run into any venomous creatures, we may be needing them."

"Cindy!" I cried, the name ringing a bell. She was a sweet looking girl with a smile that seemed light up the room. She wore her silky blonde hair up in a pony tail, and a blue and white striped waitress uniform. "Cindy," I repeated, calmer this time around, "are you a waitress?"

"No, she's a fucking playboy bunny," Alyssa snapped. "As if the uniform didn't give it away."

"At J's Bar," Cindy replied sweetly.

"Have you met anyone named Cranky?" I asked urgently. "I mean, his name is … his name is Craig. It's been a few days since you might have met him. He came into your bar a few days ago when all this started happening and …"

"I can't say I recall," she said honestly.

"He's about yay tall," I pressed, hanging my palm high above my head, "bright red hair, and flirts with anyone sporting anything remotely resembling breasts."

"Oh my gosh," she said, covering her mouth, "that's the man that came into the bar before just before the outbreak went into full swing! He said he was coming into town looking for his little brother! Do you know him?"

"I'm who he was talking about," I said.

Cindy looked at me with disbelief. "You're his … brother?" she asked.

"Adoptive," I elaborated, and she nodded in comprehension.

"Okay, that makes more sense now. You're, what, Japanese? Or Vietnamese?"

"Chinese, and he's a red headed Irish boy, I know. I didn't believe it at first either, but yeah, he's my brother."

"You're very lucky to have someone care about you so much," she said.

"Until he left to go look for you just yesterday."

"He didn't!"

"Yeah, believe it. He did. And I was hoping you were able to find him."

"No, I'm sorry," Cindy apologized, "I haven't seen him since that day. Oh, Kenny, I'm so sorry. I hope your brother is okay."

Upon hearing her words, fear found its way into the depths of my guts, forcing itself in there, making a home for itself. I tried forcing the fear out, convincing myself that Cranky was a capable fighter, an expert gun wielder, but nothing worked.

"Yo, man," Jim Chapman, the subway worker said, throwing his arm around my shoulder, "I say you don't got nuttin' to be worrying about. I saw the homie myself, and believe me, those zombies ain't got nuttin' on him. Those zombies fall apart when you hit them with a stick! Your bro's fuckin' jacked, man! It'll definitely take more than a couple of zombies to take him down!"

Jim smiled at me, his large grin showing pearly white teeth in stark contrast to his dark brown skin. His naturally black, curly hair was dyed blond giving him more of an unnatural, comical look. And that, combined with the smile on his face, forced me to mirror the expression back at him. "Atta boy," he said. "We don't got no time to afford all this sad shit. How else do ya think we made it this far?" As uplifting as his words were, there was a look in his eyes that betrayed them. I sensed sympathy behind them, and a hint of fear for his own life, though I wasn't about to mention my thoughts to him.

Throughout the entire verbal exchange, the only man to not say a word was the dark haired one leaning against the wall, gazing out the windows set in the teal doors, out into the courtyard. He was dressed a cheerful yellow colored jump suit, though his dark expression was anything but. His black hair was worn back as a short ponytail at the nape of his neck.

"Now that we've got the pep talk over with," he said with a shockingly raspy voice, "what do you guys say we get those plates the kid was talking about and get the fuck out of this joint?"

"I know exactly where a few of them are," I said, heading towards my workstation, where Rita stood working hastily on the computer. I pulled a sheet of paper from the recycling bin and sketched out a rough map of the main floor – at least, only the hallways and rooms that were important, and would lead them to where I thought I heard the plates fall during my earlier treks through police station.

"There's a plate here," I said, mentioning to a room I had sketched on the first floor. "This is the interrogation room." I scribbled the words out beside the square that represented the walls. "It's divided down the middle by a two way mirror, and you can get to the half I accessed via the left door. The right is blocked with debris. There is a shelf here where I accidentally left the plate. I had to book it out of there when I saw a monster. Be careful. It could still be there."

"The next plate is on the second level in the waiting room. This room is also divided, only this time by a makeshift barrier. Access it through the second floor mezzanine," I pointed towards the emergency ladder in the main hall that lead up to it, "and go through that door. The plate will be on top of the shelving cabinet to your left."

"Why did you leave it there, of all places?" Kevin asked.

"I was planning on hiding all of them up there," I explained, "but I'd only managed to get one up there before I was confronted by a fellow survivor." I didn't bother explaining the mysterious Ada Wong – it would've taken more than a few simple words to express my distaste for the woman, and besides, it wasn't exactly an issue of importance.

"Anyway, you said there were four or five," Alyssa continued, "and you've only covered two sofar. Where are the others?"

"Um … I thought I felt something fall out of my pocket in the morgue," I recalled.

"The morgue?" Cindy asked, bewildered.

"It's not that bad," George said, waving off her horror, "I'm around those kinds of things all the time. I'll take a look there if it makes you feel better."

"It's not some ordinary morgue," I said. "The bodies are all over the place in there. And with the threat of them reanimating into zombies, I don't think you should go alone."

"And the fourth plate?" Alyssa asked, getting irritated with how easily distracted I was from the task at hand.

"Right," I said, "the fourth one … now this one I'm not sure about, but I think it could be in the safe in the East Office."

"What the _hell _is it doing in a safe?" Kevin asked.

"I don't know, but I think I left it there by accident!" I cried defensively. "I swear I didn't mean to scatter them all throughout the precinct. I just left them in my pockets and absentmindedly took them out and forgot to keep them on me! Besides, it wasn't like I knew they were needed for our escape!"

"Alright everyone," Kevin said, addressing his entire group. "Let's split up and find these plates."

"We still don't know if there's a fifth one," Alyssa noted. "We only have confirmation on four different locations. If we do indeed need a fifth one, where can we even begin to start looking? It's been days since the kid lost them and I doubt he can retrace his steps that far back. It's a miracle he can even remember the placement of four of them."

"Right now, all we can do is pray there isn't a fifth one," Kevin said grimly. "We'll save the one in the waiting room for last. It's the closest and probably the safest to get to."

"There are creatures all over the station," I explained, "particularly in the east wing interrogation room and the basement levels."

"Cindy, Mark," Kevin ordered, "you two come with me to the interrogation room." The pretty waitress and the bald security guard walked over to Kevin's side. "We need to conserve our ammunition," Kevin explained to Cindy. "You're the one with the herbs. Stay between Mark and I at all times. I know my way around this place so I'll take the front. Mark, you cover the rear. Kenny, I think you better give the map to the others."

"I'll cover the morgue," George said, following up on his earlier promise.

"I've got your ass covered," Alyssa added, joining him.

"The anti-virus pills I've got stored here are more useful against these viral monsters than any bullet you can fire at them," George protested. "Use your ammunition where it is needed."

"George is right," David, the mysterious man in the yellow jump suit piped up. "Conserving ammunition is our top priority. If anyone can pull this off without firing a single bullet, it's us." He tossed a wicked hunting knife up into the air, and caught it by the handle without even glancing once at the weapon as it traveled back into his palm like a wild animal, tamed by the charm of its master.

"Then Jim and I will get the plate in the office," Alyssa said. "What's the code, Kenny?"

"It was 2236," I replied, "though it changes sometimes. There's a sheet of possible combinations in the waiting room." I pointed to the only set of double doors on the first floor of the main hall to our left. "You can find out for sure in there."

"What about me?" Yoko asked.

"Yoko," Kevin ordered, "you and Kenny scour the place for any useful items but _be_ _careful_. I don't want you two engaging any monsters. The moment you spot anything that doesn't walk or talk like a person, run the hell away, you got it?"

"Yes, sir," I replied. Yoko merely rolled her eyes.

**XXXXX**

As soon as everyone had gone, Yoko and I stood in the main hall with nothing but the sound of Rita's fingers hitting the keyboard rapidly for company. She looked at me and didn't even have to say anything as I understood immediately her confusion. She was looking to me as a guide. Between the two of us, I was the one who knew my way around the police station, being one who worked here, and having been trapped in this building for the past week. Christ, had it been a week already since I'd been beyond the precinct grounds? It was a big building, I knew that, but realizing that made me start to think of this place as a prison.

"There's someone who has to know about what's going on," I explained. "I think it'd be sensible for us to go and let him know."

"That wasn't a part of the plan," Yoko said.

Yeah, it was no mystery how a girl like Yoko survived with the others. She followed instructions well. And Kevin was a damned good police Officer who knew exactly what he was doing. I wasn't as good at establishing authority as Kevin, so I tried another tactic. I tried to reason with Yoko.

"There's a reporter down in the prison cells," I explained. "He's locked himself in there hoping for rescue to come. Now you've been all over the damn city, I'm sure, and you know more than me that no help is coming. We've been sealed within the borders of Raccoon. Nobody is getting in or out. If we're going to make a break for it via the tunnels, I'm not leaving anyone behind."

Yoko looked at me hesitantly.

"We'll probably find some useful things along the way," I said. "Come on, let's go."

Taking her by the hand, I headed towards the teal doors and out into the courtyard. The cool night breeze blew against our faces, fueling the fires burning out on the street. I then realized that now, not only were the streets abandoned, but completely trashed, more so than before. The pavement that made up the road could barely be seen from underneath all the broken glass, the twisted metal, the flaming piles of debris that were once vehicles. Most disturbing of all were the zombies that hung around just beyond the gates. The moment Yoko and I came within sight, they threw their rotting bodies at the metal fence, reaching hungrily for us with their decaying fingers, snarling through the bars like caged beasts. But it was Yoko and I, and any other survivors left that were the caged.

I instinctively backed away in alarm from the zombies, though it was obvious they weren't going to get anywhere near us unless the bars gave out. I accidentally crashed into Yoko, who held me still. "It's okay," she said quietly into my ear. "There are only three of them and they aren't as dangerous as they look."

I turned to look at her, wondering where these words were coming from.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "These things are responsible for …" They were responsible for everything that had happened to me, all the deaths that had occurred throughout the city and here she was with the nerve to tell me they weren't as dangerous as they looked?

"See that one?" she pointed to the one gripping the gates. It had once been a man. The only way I could tell was from the remains of a business suit that now hung in rags over his body. Patches of skin and muscle had rotted away, exposing the organs in his chest cavity. His intestines hung out from his abdomen in coiled ropes, but if he felt any pain, he wasn't showing it. "That one is in the advanced stages of decay. It can't catch up to you if it tried. The muscles and tendons holding his bones together are probably so rotted that it'd only take a broom handle to knock his head off. We wouldn't even need a gun."

Taking a second look, I noticed that she was right. I'd faced monsters before but always either had someone there to back me up, or ran for my life. Not even once, with all the creatures roaming the city limits, did I ever bother fighting back. Instead, this girl a few inches shorter than me, and definitely more delicate looking had survived the onslaught. If I could just follow her example, stop thinking of these creatures as unbeatable monsters but as mortal opponents, I just might have a chance at surviving.

The thought had calmed me sufficiently, and I took a moment to catch my breath. Before I could say anything, Yoko spoke gain. "What are we doing outside, anyway? You said this person was in the prison cells."

"We're going there," I explained. "But we're taking the safer route. Typically, we'd access the basement via the east wing, but with all those creatures roaming around, it'll definitely be unsafe for us – two unarmed civilians. Of course, unless you plan on using any of that ammunition in that backpack of yours …"

"But the only entrance to the interior is through the doors we just came out of," Yoko protested, "unless you plan on taking us there by the back route, which would mean we'd have to leave the gated courtyard."

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing," I replied, taking the girl by the hand. I led her towards the lawn just to the right of the teal doors, lined on either side by deciduous trees, their sun-dried leaves rustling loudly in the gentle night breeze. The setting sun cast its orange rays across the sky, turning it various hues of yellow, orange and red. The smoke from the burning car wreckage outside and from various parts of the city gave the air a grayish tinge. It looked as if the apocalypse was upon as. And as far as the fate of Raccoon City was concerned, it was.

The side gate was on the other end of the grassy lawn, but instead of taking Yoko through their, we hung another right down the stairs that led into an underpass beneath the main entrance.

"This only leads us back up," Yoko commented.

"Not if we take this route," I replied, pointing to a large ventilation pipe at ground level.

Yoko's narrow eyes went wide. "How in the world would you know about that?" she asked, bewildered.

"We had some prisoners nearly escape the station through these ventilation tunnels," I explained. "The chief was going to do something about it just before all this shit happened. We can use this to get inside into the parking garage. The prison cells are just beyond the garage and we can get Ben out of there. This is a much faster and safer route than navigating through those infested halls."

I dropped to the ground, belly first, and began crawling through the pipe. Yoko hesitated, but after I showed no signs of waiting for her, she sighed and joined me on the ground, crawling through the cobweb filled vent. We emerged on the other side to the cool air of the parking garage. I crawled until my feet were well away from the opening and got up, dusting myself off. I turned around to help pull Yoko out from the vent. After a few seconds of struggling, we were both able to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I must admit," she said, brushing the dust out of her black hair, "I'm impressed with your resourcefulness."

"Thanks, but we need to save the flattery for later …" I stopped talking because at that moment, a shrill alarm rang out through the parking garage. It was high pitched, loud, and threatened to burst our eardrums, stunning the both of us for a moment as we covered our hands over our ears, wincing in agony.

"What is that?" Yoko cried, though I could barely make her voice out above all the alarms.

"I don't know!" I yelled back. Whether or not she heard me, I couldn't tell.

"**WARNING**," a mechanical voice cried from the station's P.A. system, "**WARNING!**"

Suddenly, it hurt to breathe, my lungs began burning, my eyes started to water. I forced them open, only to find the familiar parking garage take on a yellowish color. Gas! Some kind of gas was leaking in here through the vents!

"Come on!" I cried, seizing Yoko by the hand again. She was too busy coughing and hacking to resist and I managed to pull her around some parked cars, hung a left, and through the doors that led into the prison cells.

**XXXXX**

We entered the cells through a mechanical sliding gate. The lock had been released, allowing us access to the actual rows of cells. There were only two, and the one farther down was where I'd last seen Ben Bertolucci. Something told me that he might have been dead, though logic suggested that there was no way that zombies could have broken through those bars if a normal human couldn't. Yoko followed closely behind.

"Ben?" I called out.

"Kenny is that you?" I heard him ask. I came into Ben's view, standing in front of his cells, watching him breathe a sigh of relief. The red tie he wore around his neck had been loosened, and so had the top button of his white dress shirt.

"Thank goodness you're okay," I said.

"Same goes for you too," Ben replied. "What's the situation like up there? I've been here for God knows how long now and every time I muster the courage to unlock the door to go up and check, something always holds me back."

"Just as well," I said, shaking my head. "It's bad up there, really bad. Most of the survivors are either dead, or resurrected as zombies. The remaining few have disappeared. I'm assuming they've died."

"How did you make it down here without running into anything?"

"There's a little secret way I discovered," I explained. "We came to lead you out of here. We're making our escape from this place and I've come to take you with us."

"Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what's crawling out there?"

"We're trying to gain access to a ventilation tunnel which leads out of the precinct. One of the officers is going to take the route out and grab us an escape vehicle, drive back here, and get the rest of us. We don't have to walk the streets."

"If you're gonna be all suicidal," Ben said stubbornly, "then be my guest. But I'm not about to leave this cell. Those zombies aren't the only things that are crawling around out there, you know."

"Ben, I can't leave anyone here to die!" I protested.

"You're not leaving me," he insisted. "I'm staying behind. I appreciate the thought Kenny, but I'm not leaving this cell. You and your friend are welcome to join me in here, but I'm not going out there."

I opened my mouth to shout at Ben, to tell him how ridiculous and childish he was being. Sooner or later, the zombies would make their way into the prison cells and he'd never get out, with or without a key. But I never got the chance to say anything to him as the doors to the corridor suddenly opened with an electronic hum. Yoko and I jerked our heads in the direction of the doors fully expecting a horde of zombies to come stumbling through.

"What the fuck was that gas!" I heard David cry. His familiar form clad in the cheerful yellow jumpsuit seemed to materialize from the darkness beyond, and was followed by George.

"David, George!" Yoko cried excitedly. "Thank goodness you're both alright!"

"You didn't experience that gas, did you?" George asked, worry written all over his middle-aged face.

"Actually, we sort of did," I replied.

"I have a feeling it's irritating the virus in us," he explained.

I suddenly leapt backward, away from Yoko. "W…what the FUCK!" I cried, pointing a shaky finger at all three of them. "You guys are infected?"

"We're keeping the infection rate down with these," George explained, holding up a little white pill between his thumb and index finger. "They're anti-virus pills, and completely halt the virus's development rate for about a minute or two."

"How did you contract the virus?" Ben asked, gripping the bars of the door in his hands.

"Likely through the water," David explained. "The sewers we entered beneath Raccoon hospital were infested with creatures that had advance mutation in them. We're thinking the outbreak might have started there. You two might have been infected too."

Ben and I looked at each other. "I haven't had any water from the tap," he said. "I was holed up here with the other survivors and we were given bottled water to drink. What about you, Kenny?"

"Same here," I replied. "Most of our zombies came from the various raids, and transferred the virus over to other survivors who in turn became zombies too. The only virus contact that's occurred here are from injuries."

"Are you sure of that?" George asked.

"Yeah."

"Well still, just to be on the safe side," he said, aiming his odd looking capsule shooter at me, "I'll give you one."

"No, no, hold on!" I said, putting my hands up to shield my face. Suddenly, I felt something small and hard punch me in the neck. It was traveling fast enough through the air to bruise my skin, but not dense enough to knock the wind out of me.

I looked up at George in horror. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I cried.

"It's okay!" Yoko insisted, trying to calm me down. The impact is only hard enough to shatter the case of the pill, which allows your skin to absorb the pill's contents."

"And if it hits fabric?"

"Then it's a wasted pill."

"So," Yoko said, turning to David and George, after the latter had shot another pill at Ben, "did you guys find the plate in the morgue?"

"Sure did," David said, "though I've gotta admit, Kenny's picked the best fucking places to leave those things."

"I've worked as a doctor and a surgeon for over twenty years and I've never seen anything like that before," George added. "I'm used to the morgues at the hospital but it looked like a bloodbath had occurred in there." He shuddered at the memory, looking like he'd be better off forgetting the entire scene altogether.

"Where's the plate?" Yoko asked. David held out the metal crescent piece with an amethyst crystal embedded in the center in his gloved palm. "I'll put it in my bag. Did you find anything else we could use?"

"Well, just a little file here," George reported, waving around a folder with the words "Top Secret" stamped in red ink across the tanned cover.

"Way to be subtle," I muttered under my breath.

"I'm not sure I can make out exactly what its trying to say with all these numbers," he admitted modestly, taking a glance at the papers within the folder.

Ben's eyes suddenly went wide upon seeing the file. "That's it!" he cried excitedly. "I've been looking for that damned thing! I knew I dropped it somewhere in this place …"

"Only you couldn't bring yourself out of the cell to go look for it yourself?" I asked, attacking him in the most unobvious way possible, but Ben had caught on.

"That's why I'll be the one who escapes this place alive, and you would be rotting in some zombie's stomach." Ben turned his attention back to George. "Hey, buddy, do you think I could have my files back?" he asked.

"Well," George replied hesitantly, "we might be needing to spread the word about who's behind this mess when we make it out of the city."

"When you just admitted you can't really decipher what it's trying to say?" Ben asked. George's lack of response told us he could see the point in Ben's claims. Without arguing, the good doctor handed him the file.

"You'd probably make better use of it than us anyway."

"Exactly," Ben said proudly, "I'm a reporter, after all."

"I knew he reminded me of someone," David muttered. George and Yoko smiled in response, but I didn't really get who he was referring to.

"Thanks," Ben said, taking the file from George's hands through the bars. "Here." He held up a plate in his hands identical to the one David had just handed Yoko, only this one had a sapphire jewel in its center. "You guys take this as a reward. I just found it lying around in the parking garage."

George, Yoko, and David all shifted their gazes to me at once. "I guess the first one I dropped was in there," I said defensively. "Besides," I continued, turning back to Ben, "I thought you never left your cell."

"Fine, I left once, but I had to pee, you know."

"Alright," David interrupted, "so come on, then. Now that we've gotten what we came for, lets all book it out of here."

"Ben's not coming," I said. "He's pretty adamant on staying in here."

David turned around and gave the journalist a look of bewilderment.

"The kid's right," he explained. "Don't worry, I've got my reasons."

David just shrugged, pulling me, and Yoko along with him with George tagging a few feet behind us, looking hesitantly over his shoulder at Ben, who had already gone back to bed on the cot in the cell.

**XXXXX**

We regrouped back at the main hall a few minutes later. I took David and George through the same vent that Yoko and I had entered. When we reached the parking garage, I had expected the yellowish gas to still be flowing into the space through the ventilation system, but was shocked to find it had dissolved and the air was breathable once again. Something strange besides the zombies was happening to the precinct. Who could have sabotaged the ventilation systems and what could their motivations be? George and David had clearly experienced it too, but they kept insisting that it was the basement hallways that flooded with the stuff, and not the parking garage like Yoko and I had argued.

The disagreement lasted all the way back to the main hall, where we found Kevin, Mark and Cindy standing at the base of the fountain centerpiece, inserting a plate into its base. The three of them turned around at the sound of our voices and I watched as relief flooded their faces.

"You found the plate right?" Cindy asked hopefully.

"We sure did," Yoko replied, letting her backpack slide down her arm onto the floor in front of her. She crouched down and began digging through it to pull out the plates.

"And we encountered some weird nerve gas," George said. "Fortunately, I had a supply of anti-virus pills in my medical case. I suspect the gas may be irritating the virus in our bodies. I've given Yoko, David and myself a shot. I'm not sure if you three experienced the gas too, but …"

"Christ, Kevin," I said, "don't tell me you've contracted the virus too!" The outcry caused Rita to jerk her gaze from the computer screen towards him.

Kevin didn't say anything initially, but looked at the floor solemnly, his head hanging with dread. "We experienced the gas," he said. Without another word, George went immediately to work, handing out whatever he had left of those anti-virus pills. "We've got the virus in us," Kevin went on, "all eight of us. It remains airborne for a little while, but from then on, it's only contagious if you get bit. But the virus is at home in water, and if any infected water is ingested …"

"Oh God …"

"You didn't drink any water from the tap, did you, Kenny?" Kevin asked, grabbing me by the shoulders, shaking me lightly.

"N … no," I replied. "They gave us bottled water to drink." Kevin let out a sigh and released me, walking back again to the fountain where Yoko was busy inserting the plates we had discovered. "Any sign of Alyssa and Jim?" I asked.

"No," Cindy said, shaking her head. "We'd only been in the main hall for a few minutes before you showed up. Is this your first trip back up here?"

"Yeah," Yoko nodded.

"Because by the time we got back here," Mark continued, "there was already a plate inserted into the base of the fountain. Which means between us three, and you guys, and the one already inserted here initially, four plates have been found. And there's space for one more."

"FUCK!" Kevin cursed loudly, smashing a fist into the stone fountain, only to pull it back towards his body in pain.

"That means Jim and Alyssa must've found the first one," I noted, "but where are they? Why didn't they wait here for us?"

"Perhaps they went to search for us," George suggested.

"No way," Mark interjected, "not with those crazy monsters running all over the place, and the gas leaking through the pipes."

"Rita," I called out, walking towards the computer terminal at my workstation to the rear end of the main hall, "do you know what's going on with the ventilation systems? It's leaking some strange gas in certain rooms. I thought it could be some malfunction of the system, but it's clearly intended when there's a robotic voice sounding some kind of warning."

"That's the defense system we recently installed because of the increase in the zombie population," she explained. "The gas was theoretically supposed to slow down the monsters and kill them."

"Except the doctor thinks it aids the virus manifestation in those already infected."

"Which explains the sudden increase in the zombies within the precinct," Rita realized aloud. Her fingers had stopped hitting the keys as she stood up, away from the keyboard and allowed the facts to sink it. "They're not all victims of other zombies. Oh God, Kenny, did we help create even more zombies for us to contend with?"

"That's why I couldn't find any other survivors," I told her, realizing it as the words were leaving my mouth.

The handle on the door to the second level waiting room turned and the door opened with an audible click, resounding in the expansive space. Kevin, his five fellow survivors and me and Rita looked up at the mezzanine and saw Alyssa and Jim emerge from the room. Alyssa glanced down at me from where she stood.

"Could you make the fucking plate any harder to get to?" she bitched loudly. "Leaving it on the shelf is one thing, but on the top? What are you, trying to kill us!"

"I … I didn't mean to," I swore. "I just forgot about them easily cause I didn't think …"

"Well we _needed_ those things!" she screamed, cutting me off. I found myself hoping the woman wasn't like this all the time. There was a permanent stick shoved far up her rear and not even Kevin's happy go lucky nature had managed to dislodge it the slightest bit over the last few days. At least, that's how it appeared. If this was actually Alyssa in a better mood, I would've hated to see her initially when Kevin first ran into her on the night of the twenty-second. And speaking of Kevin, I found him leaping to my defense.

"Quit the bitchin' and come back down here," Kevin said. "Kenny works with us and we're damn proud to have such a hardworking kid like him devote so much time and effort – and he's not even on the payroll." Alyssa had nothing to say in return, and she just scoffed and headed towards the ladder with Jim walking meekly behind her.

"Well we found the fourth plate," she said, holding it out in front of us. Kevin's eyes widened with joy and he immediately threw his arms around Alyssa's shoulders, giving her a big hug which surprised her a little, considering just a few seconds ago, he was shouting at her.

"Wha … what the hell is wrong with you?" she screeched, pushing him away violently.

"That's actually the fifth one," I explained, pointing at the metallic crescent piece in her hand, "and the very last one we need to get out of this place …"


	26. Epilogue: Just a Prelude

**September 29th, 1998 Evening**

Officer Ryman had placed the last plate into place in the circular hollow at the base of the fountain. He waited, along with Rita, Marvin and I, and the seven survivors Kevin had protected during their exploits through the city, all holding our breaths. The tension was so high, it almost had substance, hanging over our heads, mingling with the chilly air in the main hall. We didn't have to wait long.

The centerpiece of the fountain was a stone carving of a beautiful woman dressed in a toga bearing a water jug over her shoulder. She was placed on a simple cubed pedestal of stone which was raised as soon as the last plate had been inserted. The cube pedestal she stood on was actually a lot taller than it appeared, and we realized this as it raised the statue high and higher with a thick grinding sound of granite against granite. The base of the pillar sported some kind of tunnel opening only four feet high and three feet wide.

Kevin and the other survivors, once crowded around the fountain base, cleared a path for Rita to approach it and enter the drained pool. The tunnel mouth gaped at her, beckoning for her to enter the mysterious darkness that lay beyond. Marvin followed close behind Rita.

"It'll take at least an hour to get through a space this narrow," he said. Marvin reached into his pocket and pulled out a walkie-talkie, placing the electronic contraption into Rita's palm with two hands. "Use this to keep it touch with me. It doesn't have much range but the signal should get through if I'm close by."

Rita nodded firmly. "Leave it to me. I promise I'll be back with help."

She looked at the rest of us, making silent conversation with each survivor as her gaze met the eyes of all nine of us standing there together. The determination in her crystal blue eyes, against all logic, reassured us. There was no way Rita was going to die out there. She'd make it out of the tunnel. Nothing was going to stop her in her mission to find some kind of escape vehicle for us. The intense color of her irises complimented her expression. With one final nod, Rita turned around, got down on all fours and prepared to crawl in.

"I can go with you," I suddenly said, breaking the tense silence with my voice. But nobody paid any attention to me. Kevin just placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, a gentle urge to shut the fuck up and not get in the way.

**XXXXX**

Lord knew how long we were willing to wait for Rita's return. Despite the assurance she gave us before leaving, with her absence, I could feel that everyone was wondering whether or not she'd actually make it. Our lives were dependent on her success right now and we couldn't afford to have her die. Alyssa was tense and snappy but upon inquiring, Kevin told me that it was just in her personality and had little to do with our predicament.

I was sitting outside in the grass of the courtyard munching on a bag of tortilla chips Kevin and I had managed to shake out of a vending machine. A few zombies lurched around just beyond the gates and I looked at them nervously, though logic told me there was no way only two or three could get through. Kevin sat beside me, not even shooting a glance at the creatures, checking and rechecking his firearm, practicing his aim while chewed in silence. I offered him some, but he didn't want any. His mind seemed occupied with something else. Cindy sat on my opposite side drinking chilled coffee from an aluminum can. She noticed me looking at the beverage and smiled sweetly at me, tilting the can in my direction.

"No thanks," I said.

"We should've discovered this coffee stuff sooner," she remarked, looking at the near empty can. "It would've helped us stay awake much better."

"The zombies do a good enough job for me," I shrugged.

Cindy didn't say anything to reply to the comment. She looked at me and sighed outwardly. "I'm amazed you've made it this far by yourself," she said.

"No," I shook my head violently. "I didn't come this far alone. I've been stuck in this building for about a week now, watching the city get worse and worse through those windows. I could've died on more than one occasion, but there's always been someone to bail me out. Now that there's nobody left, I'm really alone and I'm not sure how well I can go about this."

"I know what you mean," she agreed. "Even the trained military is falling victim to whatever's going on out there."

"Because they don't know what they're dealing with," Kevin interrupted our conversation. "But we do. We have a chance."

"Are you saying a bunch of ordinary citizens can survive the monstrosities out there better than a whole army can?" I asked.

"I'm sure Yoko's already given you the lowdown on how we handle zombies, depending on their stage of decomposition. The Lickers can be taken out from afar just as long as …" Kevin paused as he noticed my blank expression. "Pink monsters with elongated tongues … I'm sure you've seen them crawling around in the precinct."

And then I remembered based on his description – those skinless freaks that had slaughtered everyone in the cafeteria that morning – and he had actually given them a name.

"Th…those creatures…" Hearing the fear in my voice, Cindy wrapped a protecting arm around my shoulders and hugged me reassuringly.

"What happened?" Kevin asked.

I tried to respond but the images of the cafeteria were still fresh in my mind. My voice caught in my throat.

"Those things killed everyone," I managed to choke out. "We were in the cafeteria and they crawled in. They fucking stabbed everyone, impaled them … God it was … it was …"

"How did you make it out?"

"The officers came in and killed them. Bullets, guts, blood, everything was just flying everywhere. In the end, I was the only one who …"

"Stop talking, we understand," Cindy whispered gently into my ear.

"Kenny," Kevin said sternly. "I hate to tell you this, but what I'm about to say is important, especially now that you have to learn to fend for yourself." Cindy shot him an angry look but Kevin went on undeterred. "Cranky's not here for you, Amber's gone, Rita … well we're not sure if she'll make it. Right now, our numbers have dwindled down to ten people. We're gonna need to stick together and work as a team. We're relying on you as much as you're relying on us."

"Kevin, that's a little more responsibility than he can handle," Cindy interrupted in my defense.

"No," I contradicted. "I don't want to be a liability. I know I can do this. I mean … it's terrifying, but I'm not going to give you guys someone else to protect. I'll be more useful than that."

"Good," Kevin nodded in approval. "There are worse things out there than those Lickers. There are the hunters, those poisonous worms, giant frogs who can swallow a man whole."

His words struck fear into me. It was funny that a few weeks ago, I would've met his claims with skepticism but I knew Kevin wouldn't lie to me especially in such an urgent situation. And after seeing what I have, those creatures weren't very hard to imagine anymore.

"So there's just ten of us now, huh?" I repeated Kevin's words more to myself than anyone else.

"That's right," he confirmed, "and I'm not too sure what happened to everyone else. All I know is, they're not here. It makes no difference where they are."

"Amber's gone," I reported, earning myself a wide eyed expression of shock from Kevin.

"Not her too ..."

"I mean she escaped the precinct just yesterday afternoon. I saw her go. There was a convertible waiting for her outside." I refused to mention the occupants of that vehicle, not that it made any difference to Kevin anyway.

Kevin's brows crinkled, whether in deep thought or with disgust, I couldn't really tell. "You mean she just made arrangements for herself and left everyone here to die? I'm sure you saw what you did, Kenny, but that really doesn't sound like our Amber."

"It doesn't," I agreed. "But at the time, there was hardly a soul left in the building. Everyone had either been eaten or zombified. She probably thought there was nobody else left alive except her and decided to just book it. Honestly, I thought I was the only one left until I saw her make a run for it."

"Why didn't you follow her?" Kevin asked.

I wanted to tell him it was because Jack and Lisa were in the convertible, that I was too stunned with the fresh wound of betrayal that hit me upon seeing them abandon their friends from Lisa's party. But those were other wounds that had barely begun to heal and I wasn't interested in reopening them.

"I felt safer in the precinct," I lied.

"Ugh," Cindy scoffed, "I think you're giving that woman way too much credit."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked her, as if she had directly offended me.

"Sorry, Kenny," Cindy said honestly, "but I don't think that woman is a good influence on you."

"You know her?"

"We used to work together at J's Bar. Amber Bernstein was a troublemaker, to put it lightly."

"But Amber's ... she's not like that," I insisted. Kevin said nothing, but showed his support through a smile and a nod.

"No," Cindy countered the both of us. "I work hard for the customers, and they appreciate me for it but when J, our boss, recognized my efforts more than hers, Amber got jealous and hit me over the head with a tray." I shot Kevin a puzzled look but he returned it with a shrug. "Anyway," Cindy continued, "I think we should get inside. I don't feel too comfortable out here. It doesn't feel right relaxing like this with those creatures just over there." She tilted her chin at the closest zombie only a few meters away, the bars of the perimeter fencing keeping it safely away from us.

**XXXXX**

We'd only just gotten through the main doors and back into the marble lobby. The air was notably chillier in here due to the cold stone. Normally it'd be a welcome sensation, especially this time of the year in the late summer. But this time, the shivers it sent down my spine were unwelcome, likely because in our desperate situation, I found it hard to discern them from the body's reaction to a feral fear. Kevin seemed to share in this, as he hunched his shoulders and shook them violently for a second as he entered. Marvin was seated directly in our path, on a short flight of stairs that led about a foot or two down onto the main floor. He looked at us over his shoulder from the corner of his eyes, giving us a glimpse at his profile.

Marvin was normally such a cool, controlled man especially in high-tension situations – a skill that he and many of his fellow officers had perfected to an art over the years. When he lost his confident, stoic composure, then there was definitely cause for alarm. Now was one of those rare times. His sagging shoulders and depressed brows made him look so weak, so scared that he could've easily been mistaken for a child if he hadn't been so big and built.

"Any word from Rita?" Cindy asked, her voice hopeful and uncertain at the same time. Marvin shook his head slowly and buried it in his palms. I thought he was going to cry, but to my relief, he just let out a sigh instead. Kevin moved to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but Marvin seemed to sense it coming and shrugged his shoulders. Kevin froze in his tracks. Realizing physical support wasn't going to be welcome, he chose to express it in words.

"She'll make it," Kevin said. "She'll ..."

He was interrupted with the short series of beeps that the walkie-talkie produced, cutting through the tense air with its pitch. Marvin quickly reached for the contraption strapped to his belt, his fingers fumbling through the leather straps.

"Marvin, Marvin!" Rita called from the other end. Her voice was a little fuzzy from all the interference but it was otherwise comprehensible. Marvin finally grasped it tightly and pulled it out of its holster and brought the walkie-talkie to his ear.

"Hey, you made it!" he replied excitedly. Gone was the scared child. The Marvin we all knew and loved had returned.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Rita apologized. "I'm headed your way now." Marvin looked to us as she said this, and I could just feel the smiles of elation brightening up the entire precinct. "I'll pull the truck up to the front gate, so get everyone together there. I won't be able to keep that position long so hurry up, okay? I'll contact you again later."

"Alright, be careful," Marvin advised, trying to sound serious, but he had trouble hiding his own relief and happiness at the news.

"We're getting out of here!" I cried happily. And suddenly, everyone erupted into a cheers, claps, whoops and hollers. George and Cindy hugged each other, while Yoko and I joined both our hands and jumped up and down excitedly. Kevin had his arm thrown around Alyssa's shoulder and hers around his waist with even a smile on her face. Marvin put visible effort into maintaining his stoicism, but deep down it looked like he wanted to scream like a little schoolgirl.

"Were you able to acquire enough weapons?" David asked Yoko and I. It didn't look like the good news had changed his outlook whatsoever.

"How much is enough?" I said. "We took pretty much everything we could find."

"I don't think a few sticks and stones will be enough for the hordes of zombies out there," David said, pointing to the main doors. He turned to Marvin. "We're gonna have to clear the way for Rita. Are there any ammunition reserves we might not have checked out yet?"

"The parking garage exit ..." Marvin replied, remembering the forgotten area as the words were leaving his mouth.

"What about it?" George asked.

"The place was barricaded," Marvin explained. "We used one of our caravans to help block the area. There might still be some ammunition left in the caravan. In fact, I'm sure of it. But in order to gain entry, someone has to open the shutter from the computer terminal to grant you access to the garage entryway. Usually it's Bernice and the other secretaries who take care of that but ..."

"I'll open up the shutter from here," Jim offered, finding his place at the computer. He squinted at the screen, and whatever he saw pleased him. Jim's grin widened to bare his white teeth again his dark face. "The computer controlled door locking mechanisms are powered by the same program we use down at the subway."

"So you're familiar with this then? Good." Marvin turned to the others. "There should be a switch by the shutters. It's big and red, and it acts like a doorbell. Hit it and Jim will know you've arrived and you want the door opened, and he'll take care of it from up here."

"We'll need to take as much as possible," Kevin added, "so I suggest everyone come along, except Jim, of course. Marvin, you're the one with the walkie-talkie. Stay up here just in case Rita tries to contact you again. Reception is pretty much non-existent in the parking garage."

"Got it. You guys go ahead."

"Great," I said, "I can show you guys the entrance Yoko and I used to get in to the parking garage. It's much safer than going through the east wing."

"Yoko is all we'll need to show us," Kevin countered. "You'll stay here with Jim and Marvin."

"But Kevin -"

"It's too dangerous." This wasn't a fight I was going to win. And we didn't have time for bickering right now so I just swallowed my pride and nodded, as painful as it was.

The group left the main hall in single file. Only this time as they departed for their mission, the air above their heads wasn't solemn and silent. It was bursting with energy , chatter and even a few laughs here and there. It was nice to see, that was for sure. And I'm not sure if it was just me being a pessimist – which I'll admit, is pretty rare – but as welcome as those sounds of hope were, they seemed misplaced in Raccoon's viral air. All this good news ... it was too good to be true.

**XXXXX**

The horde of zombies beyond the precinct's gates were getting restless and going by the growing chorus of undead, hungry moans, it was growing in number. There were so many of them that their efforts to breach the gates came in the sounds of creaky metal against metal. It was so loud that I could hear them from within the building. I shot an uneasy glance at him who returned the expression. Beads of cold sweat were already forming on his face.

"They haven't rung the bell yet," Jim said. The computer mouse was in his right hand and he moved it across its pad aimlessly. "They've gotta ring it, man. We can't have 'em die down there. We gotta get those bullets and shit before the zombies break through the goddamned gate!"

"I just might be able to reinforce the gate," I offered, "and buy us more time. We keep some junk upstairs on the heliport ..."

"Nuh-uh, no way," Jim protested, shaking his head. "Kevin's gonna kill me if he finds out that I let you go. You're stayin' here, man."

"Kevin also treats me like a seven year old, along with half the other cops who work here. I know my way around this station as well as they do – hell, even better than some of them!"

"Yeah, I betcha do, kid," he said, talking slowly, "but let's just try and stick to the plan, okay?" And then I had an idea.

"Okay, Jim," I replied, planting my butt on the large, angled oak desk just out of Jim's view. "It's a long way to go, anyway. I can always wait for the others to get back."

"Exactly," he replied, turning his attention back to the screen where he continued to move the cursor in random patterns across the computer screen.

I silently slid off the desk and made my way slowly over to the emergency ladder that reached the second level balcony. Jim spotted me and opened his mouth to say something, but I was determined not to be there to answer him. With a sudden burst of energy, I shot up the ladder, scaling its rungs.

"Shit, you crazy kid!" Jim screeched and tried hopping over the desk after me. He made it in a single bound but I was still too fast for him. He approached the ladder and grasped at me, but my ankles had barely eluded his fingertips. I clawed my way to the second level mezzanine and suddenly noticed a small red switch, leaning towards a word engraved into its metal plating reading "LOWER." The other - "RAISE." Jim was stepping onto the first few rungs, getting a steady footing before proceeding up after me.

I flipped the switch with a sharp kick. Jim yelped in panic and let go of the ladder, jumping back down onto the marble floor of the first level. As a last resort, he tried to coax me down with words.

"You ain't armed, man! You know just as well as I do there are things roaming around up there. Wait fo' them others to get back first. Don't be stupid and get yo' ass back down here!"

"There's no time," I insisted, already making my way towards the second floor waiting room where Alyssa had found the plate on top of the bookshelf – the same place where Officer McGraw had me handcuffed before. I started to wonder – if Jake hadn't gotten me out of those cuffs, would I still be there? Would Officer McGraw had forgotten about me with all the shit going on?

As if someone had been listening to my thoughts, I saw Officer McGraw standing there as I opened the door to the waiting room. He was on the opposite side of the barrier that stretched horizontally in front of me. And upon hearing me make my entrance to the room, he expertly spun around, and trained the barrel of his handgun right between my eyes. I reactively shot my hands into the air. After a short second, when we both recognized each other, we both let out a sigh of relief.

"Kenny," he sighed outwardly with relief.

"Officer McGraw," I replied.

"I was just taking one last look around this place before making an escape. I've got as many survivors as I can rounded up and we're preparing to leave through the sewers."

Officer McGraw jumped back in surprise as I crashed into the makeshift barrier that separated us. "You're alive!" I cried, shaking a brochure stand that had been stacked upside down. "I thought you were ... I thought ..." I couldn't put my thoughts into words. I was too relieved, too happy to see that he was among the survivors that I could only stutter and jump up and down excitedly.

Through the bars, he put his hands on my shoulders and held me firmly in place. "I'm glad to see you too, Kenny."

"Y-you gotta come with us!" I explained excitedly, still trying to regain control of myself. "Rita's coming back with an escape vehicle! She's taking all of us out of here! There might not be a lot of room, but I'm sure we can fit ..."

"No," he said sternly.

I stopped talking, halted dead in my tracks as I tried to absorb what I thought I heard. "No?"

"There are other survivors," he explained again, "and we are leaving through the sewers. It'll be dangerous, but they will be well protected. It's much safer than tackling the streets."

"But we're going to be in an armored vehicle," I insisted. "We're going to be safe."

"Yeah, but those things are only designed to carry eight to ten people," he countered. "There are far more of us than what the armored car can handle."

"But what about ..."

"We'll be fine. Officer Byrd, Sgt. Foreman and Jake are going to come with us and the civilians with us are going to be well protected."

"Then I'll come with you guys. I'm not leaving anyone behind this place to die."

"I want you to go with Rita," Officer McGraw said. "The less people we have to protect, the easier it'll be on the officers. And the vehicle offers as much protection as we can. The other civilians will be safe with us." There was a note in Officer McGraw's voice that wasn't very convincing to me.

"Fine," I said, trying to sound as agreeable as possible, but I ended up sounding bitter instead. "But we've got a problem. You see all the zombies out there? With that many, Rita's never gonna get close enough to the main gates to get us out of here. We're gonna have to take out as many of them as possible with the least amount of ammunition necessary. You're among the best snipers the police department has to offer. If you could help us out ..."

"Deal," he nodded, without a second thought.

"I'm headed up to the rooftop right now to get these boards we can use to add more barricades to the main gate. The zombies will break through in time, but I'm just trying to buy us a little more."

"More time for what?"

"Our group of survivors are busy gathering more ammunitions from the parking garage downstairs," I said, pointing to the ground. "I don't know if the gate will hold the zombies in time for them to get back up here, so I'm gonna see what else I can use to make sure they stay outside the precinct grounds a little longer."

"And you're doing this by yourself?" he asked, his volume rising.

"You'll have plenty of time to scold me later," I said, moving a large item chest from the bottom of the barricade where I could use the space it occupied to make my way through to the other side. "Right now, I need your help getting those boards downstairs." Officer McGraw sighed and helped me make my way under the barricade. He grabbed my arms and pulled, practically dragging me over.

I thanked him with a silent nod and made my way out of the waiting room ahead of him and into the hallway that led to the chiefs office. My first instinct was to go in there and check out if there were potential items we could have used to our advantage, but to be honest, I wanted to avoid that area at all costs. The Chief Irons had always creeped me out, and his fake, sadistic smiles and smooth, perverse way of speech never failed in turning my stomach. Instead, I headed over to the door that would lead into another corridor that lead directly to the roof. Before I could grasp the handle, I felt myself being tugged back.

"I'll go first," Officer McGraw said. It didn't sound like an offer, but an order. I obliged and let him fall in line ahead of me as I trailed cautiously behind. He crept silently through that corridor, his heavy boots barely making a sound against the old wooden floorboards. His efforts to remain quiet were rendered pointless by the creaks and thumps caused by my noisy, untrained footsteps.

We made our way to the rooftop without much resistance. But it wasn't until I opened the heavy steel door when something came running straight for us. Officer McGraw raised his gun and nearly fired a bullet until he realized that it was a small, harmless form of a little girl sprinting for us.

"No, wait!" I shouted, recognizing the girl's terrified face immediately. But he was way ahead of me already, letting the girl crash into him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his abdomen.

"M...m...monster..." she sobbed, her cries muffled by the fabric of Officer McGraw's uniform.

"Don't cry," he said gently, unsure of how else he could comfort the poor child. He looked to me to do something, but I wasn't sure what I could say either. I'd spent so much time trying to convince everyone that I wasn't a child, I had forgotten how to think like one. "This is the girl Amber asked you to take care of, right Kenny?"

"Yeah, but I lost track of her," I said quietly. "I thought Sherry had died too ..."

"I could have," Sherry said, removing her face from Officer McGraw's body.

"Where have you been this whole time?" I demanded.

"I've been hiding in the vents," she explained.

Then it struck me. If what Sherry said was true, she was hiding in the very same ventilation system that killer gas had traveled through. Did she have the zombie virus in her? And if so, did the gas help the virus evolve, further limiting her time as a human? No, that couldn't have been it. Sherry was one of the civilians trapped in here with us. She didn't get bit and the only water she was exposed to was purified and bottled from the emergency rations. But still, what kind of effect did the gas have on perfectly healthy people?

I backed away from Sherry without actually willing it. The coldness of the act didn't go unnoticed by her, nor Officer McGraw.

"Is there something wrong?" Officer McGraw inquired.

"S…she might be," I said, pointing a trembling finger at Sherry as I turned to look him in the eye, "…sick."

"But I feel fine," Sherry said defensively.

"Are you hungry?"

Sherry shook her head. "Those salt and vinegar chips really ruined my appetite for the next little while."

"Are you itchy?"

"No."

"Surely you don't suspect her of being infected, do you?" Officer McGraw asked.

"Well haven't you been getting a whiff of that gas that's been leaking through the ventilation systems?"

"It's meant to repel the zombies, but I can't say I've experienced it for myself, no."

"According to George – he's one of the survivors with our group and a surgeon at the Raccoon City Hospital – the gas causes the virus in infected people to develop a lot faster. Rita thinks it could be why the number of zombies present in the precinct has grown."

"I always just assumed it was cause they've found a way in … a way in that we've overlooked. But if what you're suggesting is true then … shit, that nerve gas is having the opposite effect. Whose idea was it to use that damned concoction anyway?"

"Take a guess."

"The chief's?

I nodded, based on a file I skimmed through on the counter when I was reloading the firearms. "But Sherry …"

"She got the same treatment you did, as one of the first groups of survivors brought in here. Nothing but vending machine snacks, cafeteria food, and bottled water. If she really was infected, and has been exposed to the gas, I don't think she'd be human right now."

"Can you two quit yappin' and try doing something?" a voice called to Officer McGraw and I. "Or if you're gonna continue this pointless talk, at least discuss something else. You're scarin' the poor girl over here."

We both looked over to see Sherry clinging to the leg of Jake Smith, the strange survivor I encountered on numerous occasions during my stay here. He had his hand patting the back of her head gently while she squeezed the baggy fabric of his pants in her small hands.

"We're getting out of here," Jake said, tipping his chin at me. "Lets not waste anymore time. Come on." He took Sherry by the hand and began to lead her down the staircase that would deposit us from the rooftop down in the back courtyard of the station.

"Wait, Mr. Smith," I said.

"What is it?" he demanded impatiently.

"Rita's on her way here," I explained, "and she's got an escape vehicle with her. The thing can barely fit eleven people and that's about how big our group is. I think I might go with them."

Jake stopped in his tracks and turned to face me. He looked to McGraw. "He shittin' me?" he asked.

"It's what he's told me too," McGraw said.

"And your plans …?"

"They remain the same. I'm getting out of here with you, Donald, and the others."

Jake then turned to me. "You sure about this, kid?"

"It's no more dangerous than your plan," I replied, "and no safer either. Navigating the streets or through the sewers, both have their own creatures to throw at us."

Jake managed what I saw as a stretched mouth, but it was probably the closest thing to a smile someone of his demeanor could muster.

"But before you go," I said, stalling him further, "we're going to need your help. There's a whole horde of zombies just outside the precinct's main gates and they're blocking Rita from getting close enough to get us out of here. If you could help us take them down …"

Jake looked to Officer McGraw for his thoughts, still holding onto Sherry's hand.

"I've decided to help out," McGraw explained to Jake. "I can't leave my co-workers to fight for themselves. Besides, if we fight, at least we can give Donald and the others a head start."

Jake only took a second to think about it and then nodded in approval. "Sounds like an idea to me. What happens to the girl?"

"She can stay in the main hall, while we're fighting out in the courtyard," I suggested.

"Good idea," Jake said, "and you can watch over her."

"But," I protested, "if I'm watching over Sherry, how can I …"

"That's the point," he countered so harshly, something in me told me it would be unwise to talk back the way I normally would when spoken to in such a manner.

Jake noticed my reaction, or lack thereof, and his expression immediately softened.

"Look, Kenny," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, "I've heard a lot of good things about you from Amber and McGraw, about how helpful you are around here, and how dedicated you are to your work. But you're not working anymore. You're surviving. We all are. So it would be best if you left the fighting to the people who are properly trained for this kind of thing. Sherry's got nobody to comfort her and she's scared. We need you to be there for her. Be her big brother, okay? Can you do that for us?"

"Yes, sir," I said meekly.

"Atta boy." Jake ruffled my hair. Something about that screamed 'Officer Redfield.'

"I'll help McGraw and Rita with the zombie horde."

"And I'll contact Donald," Officer McGraw said, reaching for his walkie-talkie, "and tell him to go ahead with the survivors first. We'll catch up after."

**XXXXX**

**September 29th, 1998 Night**

Late in the evening, under mild cloud cover with a gentle, steady breeze to cool our nerves, our desperate fight for survival, for escape took place. Sherry and I watched from behind the teal doors, our faces peering outside from the tiny windows. The hinges of the iron gates outside were about to break, holding out against the zombie horde that reached in desperately for the few survivors safe behind the perimeter fence; safe for now. The only difference between this group of survivors and the other groups that I've been in contact with so far was that every member of this group was armed to the teeth. There were no emotions written on anybody's face; just pure, cold business.

Standing a few feet back from the gates, serving as the front line for the miniature army against the undead was Jake. He had loaned out any of the firearms he brought with him and stood strong with the samurai sword drawn, held tightly with both hands. The blade, long and sharp, was held erect with its sharp tip high above Jake's head. He was flanked by three other civilians each brandishing their own weapons.

Mark Wilkins, the security guard held a lead pipe in each hand. The guy was tall, silent and incredibly strong. He could dish out the damage with one hand what most people could do with two. Indeed, he was the ideal candidate to be fighting with dual weapons.

Standing on Jake's other side was David King, a Latino looking young man with dark hair dressed in a dirty yellow jumpsuit. His body was angled off to the left, his right arm brandishing a hunting knife with a serrated blade about two feet long. It could've passed as a short sword in my book. He shifted his weight between his feet ever so slightly, ready to lunge in and slash the knife at any given moment. He didn't look like the plumber he claimed to be right now, but a man clearly trained in utilizing his weapon to its full potential.

Finally, directly behind Jake was Jim Chapman, dressed in the blue, red striped uniform that I recognized as belonging to the local subway company. Jim held a makeshift weapon with both hands sloppily slapped together with duct tape. I could make out a battery case with some kind of wire connecting it to a pipe similar to the ones Mark held. It was no doubt meant to be used as a stun rod, made up by only some spare metal parts, duct tape, an old battery and a metal pipe. I found myself in awe of this group's adaptability to the deadly situation in Raccoon City. The more I found out about them, the less of a surprise it was to me that they managed to make it this far.

"Are they gonna be fighting the zombies all by themselves?" Sherry asked, tugging on my shirt sleeve.

"No," I replied, "but they're fighting with junk so they don't waste bullets."

It looked like that the four of them served as the first line of resistance, armed only with melee weapons. There was no way they were going to survive with mere sticks, regardless of how deadly those sticks could be. The sheer numbers of the undead would eventually overwhelm them. But I suppose that was why the others stood behind them; the second line of defense – the sharpshooters.

Someone had given Officer McGraw a boost. Before being forced inside with Sherry, I noticed that he was perched on the roof of the sheltered walkway that led up to the main doors. He peered out through the scope of his trusted sniper rifle, picking of the closest zombies with clean shots to their heads. Some of the shots caused the skulls of the more decayed zombies to explode, splattering rotting brain matter over their brethren.

One step below him, sitting on the guard rails about a foot off the ground were Officer McGraw's makeshift teammates. Officer Kevin Ryman practiced his aim with the biggest handgun I'd ever seen; one with a silver barrel. No doubt it my mind it was a magnum handgun, the handgun with the most powerful kickback that required only the most experienced gunman to operate it effectively. There was no other officer in the precinct with more experience with handguns that Officer Ryman – no officer that was present, anyway. Raccoon Times journalist Alyssa Ashcroft was beside him with a handgun of her own, only this one was outfitted with an external chamber to fire off more rounds with a single shot. I knew the woman could fire off words like nobody's business but I would've never guessed she could've fired bullets too. Marvin and Rita were with them, standing behind the melee fighters. Now these two were a sight to behold – seemingly regular cops, only that they had a nine millimeter handgun in each hand. I couldn't wait to see them in action.

Directly in front of the main doors stood the waitress from J's Bar's Cindy Lennox, Raccoon City Hospital's Doctor George Hamilton, and student Yoko Suzuki, each with medicinal pills in their hands, ready to hand them off to George to fire off at an moment's notice. They were prepared as best as they could be for the worst.

And then the worst happened.

**XXXXX**

_God,_

_I know I haven't been the most ideal Christian. I smoke, I use your name in vain, and I don't even go to church. Hell, I'm not even Christian. But if you let me out of this one with my skin on my back and in one piece, I swear I'll start going to church every week._

_They say you work in mysterious ways. Well whatever you have planned for me, I know the fact that I've made it this far isn't accidental. I've come close to death more times than I can count since this bullshit started. The encounter with those Umbrella Agents at the café, the zombie outbreak at my apartment, the Licker in the precinct hallway, the cafeteria massacre … and you've even spared me from the fate of everyone at Lisa's party – a party I was supposed to go to. Who would've guessed that Julie's bitchiness would've worked to my advantage? Go figure._

_They're gearing up to fight now – everyone that's left in the building. All of us have so much riding on the outcome of this fight. I understand that so many people have died in the last few days. Each tale just as significant as mine. And as a mortal, a being of limits, I'm sure I need not tell you that enough is enough. I'm only praying for you end this and to let me live on so that those who've died for me. Okay, fine – I'm just scared shitless. Kill me if you must but whatever the case, and I ask this especially for the fourteen souls actively participating in this battle, make it merciful and deliver from this evil dead or alive, now and at the hour of our death._

_Amen._

**XXXXX**

**September 29th, 1998 The Final Battle**

The iron gates flew open, the boards restraining them finally taking all the pressure they could, spilling in undead after undead onto the precinct grounds. Zombies of all shapes, sizes and ages spilled forth, all of them driven by the craving for live flesh. Jake, Mark, David and Jim wasted no time on the first zombies to reach them. Mark fought with the force of a semi truck, swinging the lead pipes around his body with great force at all sorts of wild angles, coordinating them so that they would avoid hitting his own limbs. The thick, rusty metal crushed the zombies' decaying bones with sickening, wet crunches, knocked limbs clean from their bodies and stabbed torsos right through.

David slashed his knife with expert precision without missing a beat. He seemed to be able to predict how the creatures would come at him next and effectively slice off a limb and fight back ferociously with a four hit slash combination, the fourth and final strike powerful enough to knock the zombie off its feet and back into the horde that seemed to have spawned it. David wasn't just a knife specialist going by the way he fought. He utilized his limbs as well, to kick away zombies that got too close, pushing them far enough away for him to perform his knife combo attack on.

Meanwhile, Jim grasped his weapon of choice, the stun rod, with both hands and swung it like baseball bat, once, twice, thrice … it looked as if he didn't plan on stopping. His method of combat with the weapon worked extremely well. The electricity coursing through the pipe (duct tape and some other cushioning prevented the current from traveling into his body) zapped the creatures and pushed them far enough away from him for others to take their place, only to receive the same shock treatment. I was amazed at Jim's stamina. He had continued swinging that stun rod like a madman and he wasn't showing any signs of slowing down anytime soon. It must've been the adrenaline running through his body.

Impressive as their performances were, nobody fought with the sheer power, precision and ferocity as Jake did with that samurai sword. The blade was as beautiful as it was deadly, decapitating and zombie within its five and a half foot radius. The finely crafted sword was wielded by a skilled swordsman as Jake displayed his abilities, crouching, dodging, and slicing in between defensive maneuvers. It looked more like some complicated kind of dance than actual fighting, and the zombies literally falling apart before him, the severed body parts landing at his feet seemed like they were there to enhance his performance, instead of the outcome of the creatures trying to attack him.

As the melee fighters gave everything they had, crying out with effort, driven by fear and fighting with adrenaline, the gunmen backed them up. Officer McGraw, Kevin, Marvin and Alyssa picked off the creatures at the back of the horde with precision potshots, easing the pressure little by little. But yet, with every fallen zombie, another two seemed to take their place.

"I'm running low!" Alyssa cried over the shouting and gunfire. "Yoko, throw me another clip!"

The student did as she was told, tossing the older woman a fresh clip of nine millimeter ammunition. As Alyssa fired, I could hear the triple shot of the gun she fired – a burst handgun. Not a bad weapon of choice combined with her aiming abilities. Alyssa swiped the fresh clip from midair and let the spent case drop to the ground and into Yoko's awaiting hand.

"Yoko! Now!" Kevin ordered, and Yoko responded with another fresh clip from her knapsack.

"Fuck!" Jake cried as a zombie lunged at him, sending him crashing to the ground as the creature lay on top of him. Jake kept its teeth away from his throat by holding the sword up, desperately trying to push the creature away so he could effectively take its head off. The zombie stopped struggling when a hole appeared in its forehead, caused by an expert shot from Officer McGraw. Jake looked up at the young officer perched there on the roof and gave a silent nod, and continued fighting.

"Jake, incoming!" George yelled, firing a healing capsule at the swordsman. The pill case shattered upon coming into contact with the back of Jake's neck, allowing his pale skin to absorb the pill's healing contents.

"Thanks, Doc!" Jake cried without pausing in his brawl.

"Cindy, hurry up with those herbs!" George ordered.

"Just hold on a second!" she cried, struggling to grind the blue and red herbs into powder before pouring them into the tiny pill casings.

"My reserves are running low!" George replied, as he fired another pill into David, who had taken a rough bite, followed by an anti-virus pill.

"So are mine!" Cindy said, the panic in her voice rising a little.

"I've got more herbs here," Yoko offered, extracting the sagging plants from her backpack and depositing them into Cindy's herb case. "Try to grind up the roots too. I know they're a little tough, but right now we need all the herbs we can get."

"They're getting closer!" Jim cried, his shrill voice audible over the deafening gunfire. He took a step back in unison with Jake, Mark and David. The force of the zombies were driving them back closer and closer to the building despite the snipers' efforts to keep the zombies at bay. Fighting as valiantly as they could, the zombies were forcing their way in faster than the survivors could fight them off.

"What's going on out there?" Sherry asked, startled by gunfire. Only then did I realize I was still inside, peering out through the small square windows of the main doors.

I grit my teeth and lied right through them. "They're winning," I said. "Everything's going to be alright."

Sherry narrowed her eyes at me. "It sure doesn't seem like it by the way you're squeezing my hand so hard," she winced.

"Oh, sorry." I released her hand.

"You don't need to lie to me, Kenny. I know Jake told you protect me, but keeping the truth from me and thinking I'll believe you won't make me feel any better."

And then an idea struck. Looking back, it was a stupid idea, but I wasn't content just sitting on my ass while everyone else risked their lives. We were in this together and I was determined to do my part. During the last few days, we'd made a habit out of stripping bodies of their weapons; weapons that were still useful. But so many people had died and there weren't enough remaining survivors to utilize all the weapons. And the more firepower we could deliver at any given moment, the more zombies we could kill. And right now, we needed to kill as many freaking zombies as we could.

"I think I'm gonna go out there," I told Sherry.

"Are you crazy?" she replied, bewildered at the mere concept. "They told you to stay here for a reason!"

"You really believe you need me to watch over you? That's just an excuse to keep me locked up in here."

"Yes," Sherry agreed, "because you being locked in here means you're not out there. It's not safe, Kenny!"

"Screw safe!" I hissed back at her, marching towards the weapons cache by my workstation.

"W … why are you acting like this?" she cried at my sudden outburst. "Doesn't it tell you something when someone my age is advising you on what's right?"

"That's only because you have the same biases against me as they do out there," I replied, pointing to the courtyard. "All it can take is one extra person out there to tip the scales. And for some reason, they don't think I can help. That's what frustrates me to no end."

"It's about not risking anymore lives than necessary!" Sherry protested with an air of maturity I'd never seen surrounding her before. She had a point but at the time, I was too stubborn to listen to her. I made it to my workstation and stuffed as many bottles of that explosive liquid into the pockets of my jeans.

"They're trying to save ammunition out there," I explained, ignoring Sherry's screams. "And I'm gonna respect that. I'll probably end up missing a few shots anyway. But I'm sure with the blast radius of these babies, I'll be sure to take down at least one zombie with every shot."

"This is crazy," Sherry said quietly, shaking her head. "If the zombies don't kill you, Jake and the others will."

"They'll be thanking me when this is all over with," I said to her. I was trying to sound smart, daring, and heroic. But the truth was, they needed my help whether they realized it or not, and I was going to give it to them without being certain of my own battle prowess. Well, there was only one way to find out.

I left Sherry in the main hall but not before fiercely ordering her to remain behind, and to take refuge underneath the oak desk. "I'll come and get you once Rita makes it through the horde," I promised her.

**XXXXX**

The sound of gunfire was amplified exponentially as I stepped onto the battlefield that was once the courtyard of the Raccoon City precinct. Mark, Jim, and David were all showing signs of weariness. Blood covered Mark's bald head from a wound on his forehead, and was now dripping down the right side of his face. David's ponytail had loosened, allowing strands of his long dark hair to hang in blood crusted curls as he continued slashing his hunting knife. Jim's stun rod had been worn down to a mere bent metal pipe, but he continued to swing it like there was no tomorrow.

Kevin, Alyssa, Marvin and Officer McGraw continued backing them up with periodic, but well aimed potshots at the foreheads of the rotting undead, felling them with a single bullet, maximizing the capabilities of every shot. Jake continued his deadly sword dance, leaping over the limps of the zombies and slashing them off their bodies with every blurred strike he made.

A shrill cry pierced the air. I spun my head to look and spotted Alyssa, perched on the rails, struggling to maintain her balance while a rotting hand had her ankle tightly in its grasp, trying to pull her down to be devoured by the zombie it belonged to and its brethren.

"The underpass!" Alyssa cried. "They're down there! They're crawling under the crates at the top of the stairs!"

I dashed towards Alyssa to help her from her predicament but Kevin was quicker. She threw her upper torso at Kevin and wrapped her arms around his neck while he kicked at the hand that held her ankle with his booted feet, hoping to break the fingers of the zombie that had her. Alyssa winced occasionally as Kevin missed and nailed her shin instead, but there was no time to bitch at him. In fact she didn't look like she cared because whatever Kevin was doing, it seemed to be working as the fingers slowly loosened, followed by moans from protests from below.

"Almost … free …" Kevin hissed through clenched teeth, never ceasing to deliver the vicious kicks to free Alyssa.

"Hurry," she pleaded, tears creeping out from between tightly squeezed eyelids.

"I need backup, now!" McGraw cried urgently, noting that his teammates had been temporarily rendered immobile. Despite Officer McGraw and Marvin left to the sharp shooting, he realized the three of them couldn't hold up for long without their full team.

"What the fuck is going on back there?" Jake cried over his shoulder, chopping down another zombie. "There's too many of them! Take them down, and hurry!"

Marvin began to panic and a few of their shots were missing their mark. And that was when I stepped in. Nobody realized I had arrived until I had moved in front of them, into their field of vision.

"Kenny, get the fuck back inside!" McGraw ordered. There was no joking in his voice but I wasn't about to listen, at least not before I had done my part. I reached into my pockets and pulled out a single bottle, tossing it gently in my palm. Once it landed back in my hand, I reeled back as far as I could go, and hurled it into the crowd of zombies.

The resulting explosion was more powerful than I thought a small bottle of that size could produce. No wonder Sergeant Foreman was so pissed at me for taking those out of the evidence room. These things were potent, alright. The explosion knocked two or three zombies off their feet, and set several more on fire, temporarily clearing the way for Jake and the others to catch their breaths.

"What the hell?" Jim cried, taking a moment to look over his shoulder to satisfy the curiosity caused by the explosion. The extra second cost him as a zombie, its legs missing from the knees down, clambered up his body and took him to the ground. Jake was busy trying to pull his sword from the torso of a recently killed zombie, while Mark had worn his lead pipes into little more than bent metal as he scrambled to find more.

There was nobody to help Jim so I decided to move in then, delivering a kick into the creature that was about to sink its teeth into Jim's throat. I punted the zombie in the forehead, snapping its head back and clean off its shoulders. The decapitated head sailed through the air like a grotesque soccer ball, bouncing twice before rolling and disappearing behind the decaying legs of countless more of the undead.

"Thanks, man, I owe you one," Jim gasped as I yanked him to his feet.

"Duck, both of you!" Mark ordered.

Jim and I wasted no time in obeying those orders. I caught a glimpse of Mark swiping fresh lead pipe from midair, tossed by Yoko. In the grasp of his other hand, he held another pipe while his previous two that he'd bent lay at our feet. Mark began his barrage of smashes again, causing maximum damage to the zombies that continued to swarm in while Jim and I waited for a window of opportunity to continue our own fights.

"It's no use!" I cried after realizing the creatures weren't stopping. "They aren't letting up! We're not gonna get a chance to …"

I was cut off, however, when Jake drove the blade of his samurai sword through the neck of a zombie that I realized only then was almost on top of us, stabbed the one behind it through the mouth and performed a spinning back kick to the next. His foot cut through the air as neatly as his blade cracking the bones of the creature, and spun himself around with the gained momentum, this time striking with the opposite leg. In that short moment, Jake had taken down four zombies with nothing more than a samurai sword in his grasp.

"I thought I told you to stay inside where it's safe and take care of Sherry," Jake growled, "so what the fuck are you doing out here? You're gonna get killed! You'd better wish these zombies get to you first before I do!" As soon as he finished his sentence, Jake winced from a wound that I wasn't that obvious at first and teetered, his body threatening to sink him to his knees.

Just as he fell, Cindy caught him gently, and in one swift motion patted his side with a hand. When she removed her hand from his side, I noticed a blood-stained tourniquet in her hand realized she wasn't doing it to comfort him. She was stopping the bleeding from an earlier wound.

"You're an angel," Jake said through clenched teeth. The pain was still there.

"Don't move too much," Cindy advised, placing a package of herb powder into his palm while Jim, Mark, and David covered them.

"Yoko! I need rounds!" Alyssa screamed urgently.

"Coming up!" Yoko replied, tossing fresh clip towards her.

Alyssa's spent clip had already clattered to the floor by the time she inserted the fresh one into her gun. She caught Cindy's attention, who seemed to realize then that Kevin succeeded in freeing her from the zombie's grasp.

"Are you okay?" she asked, approaching the journalist.

"I'm fine," Alyssa replied. "Better check on Kevin, though."

"No need!" he said quickly. "I'm good too. Better save those extra herbs for George to make those pills."

There was so much to take in. Everywhere I looked, there was some kind of activity going on. Cindy made her rounds quickly, checking on person to person, healing their wounds as fast as she could with the few herbs she had left in her case. Those that she couldn't get to in time, George helped with the capsule shooter. The recovery pills he shot from the capsule shooter would only be effective if the pills broke on exposed skin, so the good doctor had to have remarkable aim. His brows met in concentration while he aimed.

Marvin, McGraw, Alyssa and Kevin all depended on Yoko to keep them stocked, who stored all the ammunition in her backpack. With five snipers to supply with bullets, Yoko was kept busy. Her effort to keep up with the pace of the battle was showing in the form of a thin layer of sweat on her forehead.

As valiantly as we fought, it was obvious that we were going to lose if we kept up at this pace. The zombies were coming in faster than we could kill them. Bodies of the dead lay piled on top of each other, and yet more and more shuffled through the gates. Guns were running empty, and the few explosive bottles had run out as I tossed the last one into the crowd of zombies, taking out a handful.

"Regroup!" Jake ordered, backing into Mark, Jim and David.

"I'm out!" Marvin announced. His cry was echoed by his fellow gunmen. There were no more melee weapons left, all of them worn useless by Jake and the others. The four sharpshooters were out of ammunition. Yoko turned her bag inside out to look for more but as she tipped it upside down, nothing fell to the ground as she looked at the bare ground in dismay. All the while, zombies kept coming through the gates. We huddled together, kicking and punching the zombies that got too close for comfort while Jake did his best with his sword.

I felt Yoko grasp my hand and we huddled together at the foot of the main doors with the others forming a protective ring around us.

"This is it …" David said quietly. As soft spoken as his words were, the meaning they carried was heard by all.

"I'm sorry, guys," Kevin apologized. "I swore I'd get you all out of here but it looks like …"

"You did great, Kevin," George countered. "You did the best you could – we all did."

"It looks like we were never meant to get out of this place alive," Cindy added.

"Here!" a voice cried from out of nowhere.

The eleven of us turned to look towards the source of the voice, but instead, the first thing to come into our lines of vision was a large metallic cylinder – a rocket launcher, its metallic surface shining in the moonlight giving off a false sense of serenity for that brief moment, and a very real sense of hope. It lay just a few feet in front of us, and even closer to the footsteps of the approaching zombies.

Jake shot a look over his shoulder at the rest of us. "I'm going after it!" he exclaimed, and dashed off towards it with his sword drawn before any of us could protest.

That was when I saw her – a familiar lithe female form dressed in a cocktail dress, her face bathed in shadow. She stood on an outcrop of stone on the side of the building, watching us intently despite her shrouded visage. Then, like a ninja, she leapt up and crawled onto the roof of the building and disappeared from view beneath the moonlight.

And then, an explosion came from the front gates. The force of the wave hit us all, knocking us off balance. While we struggled to get back on our feet, a screech of tires could be heard.

"Fuckin' eh!" Jake cried excitedly as we watched the main body of the horde get thrown in every direction imaginable. The few remaining creatures that stood were run over by our escape vehicle – an armored van meant to keep criminals locked inside. Only this was going to be our haven, keeping the zombies out and away from us. The vehicle reversed in, knocking a solitary zombie down cold and Rita emerged from the back double doors, a bright smile beaming on her face.

"Come on, get in!" she ordered.

Kevin, David, Alyssa, Yoko, Cindy, George, Mark and Jim ran for the vehicle while Jake, Officer McGraw and Marvin provided extra cover, watching for any stray zombies that might make a surprise move. Rita looked at Jake and McGraw to follow, but they refused.

"That thing can't hold us all," Jake said. "Some of us are gonna have to stay behind."

"No!" Rita cried tearfully. "I'm not leaving anyone behind!"

"Relax!" McGraw said. "Jake and I have another group of survivors waiting for us down in the sewers. We'll see you outside the city, Rita. I promise!"

"Come on, Kenny," Marvin ordered, grabbing me by the elbow, "in you get."

"I have to get Sherry first," I said, remembering my promise to the girl, to go and get her before we make our escape. I burst through the main doors before Marvin could say another word and looked around for the girl. But I didn't see her. My heart leapt into my throat. The only thing worse than a missing Sherry was the fact that she had been replaced by numerous zombies. How the hell did they get in here?

"Marvin!" I screamed for help as the first one lunged towards me.

Marvin followed through the doors behind me and shouldered the zombie aside. I yanked me to my feet and I scrambled after him, deeper into the precinct. He swiped a gun off the main desk and ran back towards the front. "Come on!" he said, pulling me along, "we have to get out of here!"

"But what about Sherry?"

"We've lost her, Kenny, now move it! AAARGGGHH!" While he spoke to me, a zombie snuck up behind him before I could utter a cry of warning and bit into his side.

"Marvin!"

Ignoring the agony with visible effort, Marvin aimed the gun at the creature's head and pulled the trigger, killing it in an instant. I threw an arm over his shoulder and helped him towards the main entrance, careful to avoid any of the nearby zombies that had how invaded the main hall space.

"We gotta move faster," I said, coaxing him along. "Come on, Marvin, faster."

"Is that everyone?" I heard Rita yelling from outside. "What about Kenny? What about Marvin?" The zombie that had been mowed over when the escape van backed into the courtyard came back to live and lunged after Rita but only managed to get her feet as she scrambled back into he van. Marvin pumped a round into its shoulder, freeing her from its grasp.

"Go, go, GO!" Marvin ordered her desperately.

"Marvin!" Rita cried.

"Don't worry about me!" he replied. "Just get going!"

"No way!" Rita countered, stubbornly stamping her foot on the floorboards of the van. "I'm not leaving you behind!"

I looked around for Officer McGraw and Jake and his trusty samurai sword, but they had vanished without a trace – into the van, perhaps? Before I could come to a conclusion, the van peeled away from the curb and began driving away with Rita hanging out the back, reaching out towards us as she cried.

"Kenny! Marvin!"

The dark streets swallowed them up quickly but Marvin and I didn't have time to sit back and watch them go. There were still zombies around, all of them slowly heading towards us.

"Oh God, what are we going to do?"

"Stay behind me, Kenny," Marvin said, carefully aiming for the foreheads and taking down the zombies that got close. Another zombie lunged at me and I sidestepped it successfully, just in time for to receive a bullet in the head from Marvin.

The others were gone. Everyone that we had struggled to stay alive with was gone in an instant and now, it was only Marvin and I, and a missing Sherry left to fend for ourselves in the station. Marvin continued firing desperately while I remained behind him as we circled each other back to back. By the time his handgun clicked empty, whatever creatures that had made their way into the main hall lay dying at our feet and Marvin suddenly sagged, grimacing as he gripped his side in pain.

"Come on, let me help you with that …" I reached out to help him.

"No!" he swiped my hand away. "Don't touch the wound. You might get infected."

"Don't be ridiculous. You can't walk …"

"I mean it, Kenny," Marvin said savagely. "I've been bitten. I'm going to turn into one of those creatures we just killed. I don't want you anywhere near me."

"But …"

"Find Jake and McGraw," he said. "They're going to the sewers from the kennels. You know how to get there. Use the remaining weapons cache on the receptionist desk to get you there safely."

"But what about you?"

A corner of his mouth tilted in a half smile. "Me?" he asked. "I … I'm not dead yet." He jammed another clip into his gun and headed for the west office. "Now get out of my sight, Kenny. I don't want to see you here anymore."

"Marvin …"

"I said GO!" He aimed the gun at me and I backed away, appalled by his sudden aggression though I knew he was only thinking of my safety.

I headed towards the main doors without looking over my shoulder. Jake and McGraw were headed towards the sewers and I was going to follow them, only I'd be taking the shortcut that I'd introduced to Yoko earlier tonight. I stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind me and waited for a few seconds, breathing in the viral night air.

For the first time since this adventure from hell began, I was truly alone. There was nobody to run to, nowhere to hide. My home had been ransacked by the undead and my friends devoured by them. My coworkers had either been eaten, or had successfully escaped. I had nothing left except for the clothes on my back and my will to survive. And somewhere out there, I knew Cranky was feeling the same way.

After I was sure Marvin had lumbered off somewhere and was no longer in the main hall, I turned around and opened the doors to the main hall again and walked slowly inside, listening to the emptiness of my footsteps echoing off the cold marble floor. There was nobody here except me. I was the only one in sight with any hope of making it out of here. Everyone else lay as dead zombies on the floor. I had to make it out of here. I couldn't see it any other way. I didn't survive countless near death experiences to meet my end at the hand of some viral zombie. And if I was going to leave, I was going to need a gun. I swallowed whatever little pride I had as a human being then and allowed my survival instincts to take over. I was going to do whatever it would take me to make it out of here in one uninfected piece. Every piece of morality I had struggled to hold on to until now was a part of the past. My story, from the first reported case of a cannibal attack up to this very moment was in the past. It had all lead up to this point. It had all been little more than a prelude.

**To Be Continued … Act 5: Biohazard – World of the Undead.**

**THE END**


	27. Author's Notes and Credits

**Biohazard: Prelude to Horror**

**Author's Notes**

As hinted in the summary of this story and in various chapters, this story has heavily borrowed characters from existing fan fictions by fellow authors. One purpose of this story is to tie these fan fictions together, fan fictions that take place at the same time in relatively the same place. The following titles are linked to this one.

**Darkness Arises - **Written by _EZ-B_ and still currently going strong, this story focuses on Jake (Smith) Cavanaugh, a criminal for hire who specializes in assassinations. He is contacted by a mysterious individual who reveals himself as "Jake's Benefactor", offering a hefty sum of ten million dollars upon the successful assassination of William Birkin, an Umbrella scientist. Jake enters Raccoon City to complete his mission unaware of the nightmare the city has turned into. Some of Kenny's run-ins with Jake are chronicled in this story as well.

**Resident Evil: Project Lucifer – **This hugely popular and incredibly written story, by _Hyperactive Hamster of Doom_, tells the tales of Jack Carpenter and Lisa Hartley, Kenny's social rivals in Raccoon City Secondary School. Lisa is a brunette, thoughtful, inquisitive, respectful and accepting of people who aren't like her and is simultaneously one of the most popular girls in school. And this doesn't sit well with the other girls in her clique, who soon make her social life a living hell. Then she meets Jack Carpenter.

Meanwhile, the T-Virus has leaked throughout Raccoon City turning its local citizens and wildlife into aggressive flesh-hungry monsters. But the T-Virus infected creatures aren't the only thing prowling the necropolis' streets. There is another virus, a far greater threat, and Lisa is about to find out just how close to home it hits.

**Resident Evil: The Price of Normalcy – **Written by _Desertcross4_, martial artist Isaac Brown was born in the rich, privileged world of uptown Raccoon City but has grown to despise the arrogance and condescending culture of its people. He left his sheltered home and has made a life for himself in downtown Raccoon City working as a secretary for the Raccoon Police Department's S.T.A.R.S. unit, where he encounters Kenny. Conflicting points of view of the rivaling social classes are deeply ingrained in the teenagers' minds, leaving no possibility of friendship between them. Despite the rivalry, Isaac loves his job and is happy living the life he single-handedly made for himself … until the virus hits.

**Resident Evil: Double Amber – **Also by _Hyperactive Hamster of Doom_, this is the story of Kenny's co-worker and honorary "auntie", Amber Bernstein of the Raccoon Police Department. Amber's best friend and S.T.A.R.S. member Jill Valentine is one of the few survivors who has returned in emotional shambles from a rescue mission up in the Arklay Mountains. Jill and her teammates spout of stories of zombies and monsters that common-sense establishes as impossible to exist. The S.T.A.R.S. members are ridiculed, criticized, mocked and gossiped about by their fellow officers, but Amber is the only one of believes them. And her life could be in danger because of it.

**Biohazard: World of the Undead – **This is the continuation of Kenny's story, picking up immediately where this one ends. He's survived a week's worth of zombie hordes, monster attacks, the loss of his friends, his home, and innumerable near-death encounters. He resolves to escape the city and in doing so, runs into a unique cast of characters who aid him in his mission. But he finds out there's more to survival than escaping Raccoon City. There's more to Umbrella than zombies. There's more to Kenneth Feng than a scared but determined fifteen-year-old, and Umbrella is well aware …

**Biohazard: World of the Undead – File 2** - This is other half to the aforementioned story, occurring at the same time in Raccoon City. Craig Crankurt is a 25-year-old man with the mind of a teenager. He flirts with anything sporting breasts and enjoys binge drinking, partying and the occasional one night stand. But that's not why he's come to Raccoon City. Nine years ago, he thought he lost his little brother - who when they were kids, adoringly referred to him as Cranky - in a freak explosion. Word has it that someone bearing an uncanny resemblance to his deceased sibling, who would be fifteen by now, has been spotted living happily in uptown Raccoon City. Cranky has come to investigate. The T-Virus outbreak is in full swing by the time he arrives, turning his casual visitation into a fight to survive. Will Cranky ever find his little brother, the only person who's ever looked up to him? That answer will have to wait as a gorgeous, blonde waitress with a bright smile, named Cindy Lennox has caught his attention in a local bar.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Biohazard: Prelude to Horror**

**Character Guide**

Of the cast of characters appearing in this story, only Kenneth Feng and Craig Crankurt belong to me. All the others are either taken from the Resident Evil series, or borrowed from fellow authors. The following is a list of the characters, their role in the story, and the author responsible for their existence.

**Main Character:** Property of noctorro

Name: Kenneth Feng

Age: 15

Height: 5'4 1/2"

Weight: 122 lbs

Hair: Black

Eyes: Light Brown

**R.P.D. Personnel**

**Chris Redfield **S.T.A.R.S. marksman. **_Capcom Entertainment_.**

**Jill – Valentine**S.T.A.R.S. lockpick._**Capcom Entertainment.**_

**Kevin Ryman**Police officer. **_Capcom Entertainment._**

**Rita Wilcox **Police officer. **_Capcom Entertainment_**

**Marvin Branagh **Police captain. **_Capcom Entertainment._ **

**Brian Irons **Police chief. **_Capcom Entertainment._ **

**Amber Bernstein **Police officer. **_Hyperactive Hamster of Doom._ **

**David McGraw **R.P.D. Swat officer. **_E-Z B_**

**Raccoon City Secondary (R.C.S.S.)** **_All characters by Hyperactive Hamster of Doom_**

**Julie Wilberforce **Popularity Queen.

**Justin Thomas **Pot Head, ex-jock, Kenny's best friend.

**Phil Barrett **Popularity King, Football Jock.

**Leonie Brown **Groupie #1, Flirt.

**Mary Perceval **Groupie #2, Slut.

**Luanne Wade **Groupie #3, Alcoholic.

**Sarah-Lee Robertson **Groupie # 4, Kenny's love interest.

**Lisa Hartley **Popularity rebel.

**Jack Carpenter **Bully Victim.

**Mrs. Bietelbaum **History Teacher

**J's Bar, Downtown Raccoon City**

**Will Jenkins **Bartender **_Capcom Entertainment_**

**Cindy Lennox **Waitress **_Capcom Entertainment_**

**Surviving Civilians**

**Jake Cavanaugh **Career Criminal **_E-Z B_**

**Craig Crankurt **Ex-Thief **_noctorro_**

**Isaac Brown **R.P.D. Secretary **_Desertcross_ _4_**

**Eric Rawlings **R.P.D. Rookie **_E-Z B_**

**Ace **Biker **_E-Z B_**

**Jonathan Hartley **Umbrella Scientist **_Hyperactive Hamster of Doom_**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

I want to thank everyone who's taken the time to leave me reviews while I wrote this story. I've never actually said it, though I'm sure you get the idea, but as much as I love writing, I'll admit that reviews and knowing that people appreciated what I wrote played a big part of motivating me to continue this story to it's end. **Kouryuu**, your appreciation and loyaltyto my Resident Evil fics flatters me and I will definitely continue Act 8: Biohazard - Umbrella Rekindled in the near future. Special thanks to **Hyperactive Hamster of Doom **for letting me pillage her stories for her characters, **EZ-B** for lending me Jake, Ace, Sgt. Foreman, andDavid McGraw, and **Desertcross4 **for lending me Isaac Brown. I hope I have done all of your characters justice.

And thus I close my second Resident Evil fanfiction. It's been a fun ride. I'm still not done with this section, however, as I have two more RE fics to complete. Biohazard: Umbrella Rekindled, and World of the Undead - File 2. Hope to see you guys there!


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